Finding A New Road
by peacefulsands
Summary: The team are at odds and Eliot is leaving when an accident changes everything. Eliot struggles to rebuild his life but has unexpected support every step of the way. For all the unexpected help, someone else lets him down at every turn.  past Eliot/Nate
1. Where It All Went Wrong  Chapter 1

**Title** : Finding a New Road

**Author** : peaceful_sands

**Fandom** : Leverage

**Rating** : PG-13

**Characters** :Eliot, Sophie, Nate with appearances by Parker and Hardison (there are mentions of Nate/Eliot prior to the fic)

**Word Count** : 35,900 words

**Disclaimer** : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's** **Note** : Thanks to cougars_catnip for betaing this. All mistakes still belong to me.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Part One – Where It All Went Wrong<span>**

**Chapter One**

It wasn't the reaction that Nathan had expected. The con done, the others talking of maybe a celebratory drink or two, it was all sounding pretty good, but he hadn't failed to notice that Eliot was standing just that step too far away, not part of the group, his eyes just that fraction clouded and before they'd finished deciding where to go, where to meet up to properly celebrate, Eliot had already been heading for his bike, pulling on his helmet and firing up the engine without a glance back in anyone else's direction.

"Have you two had a falling out?" Hardison asked with an eye roll.

Nathan had just frowned his disgust at the question. For once, he was sure that whatever was wrong with Eliot wasn't his fault . . . or at least pretty sure he hadn't done anything. What the matter was, well right now, that was anyone's guess.

* * *

><p>Nathan had stayed long enough to celebrate with Hardison, Sophie and Parker, but somehow, for him at least, it seemed wrong to be celebrating without Eliot, on this job more than any of the others they'd done so far. This was Eliot's job, he should have been leading the celebration. They'd got the better of Foss, Sterling and seen Eliot's friend Willie get Baltimore back. Eliot should have been ecstatic, not running off and sulking on his own.<p>

He debated all the way home what might be the problem, hoping against the odds that when he got home, Eliot would be there. He'd stayed over all but the occasional night for the last few weeks; to the extent at which he'd even got a small duffle bag with a change of clothes and some toiletries stashed at the bottom of the guest room closet. Nathan had had to smile when he first saw it, for the bag was filled with almost as many hair products as clothes, then again, as Eliot succinctly pointed out, Nathan liked his hair so if he liked it he had to accept that it took effort to keep it like that.

He let himself into his apartment and was locking the door behind him when he first sensed the presence of someone else even before he heard their movement. Something was wrong, it didn't feel right for Eliot, but then Nathan reminded himself, Eliot had been . . . out of sorts earlier. Maybe it was Eliot, maybe it wasn't, nothing was certain so Nathan was on guard before Sterling broke the silence. Not Eliot then, Nathan thought as he half listened to Sterling's irrelevant ramble.

It was a relief when Sterling finally left and Nathan could give his attention over to pondering Eliot's absence more fully. He sat for a while in contemplation before coming to a decision. So far everything had kind of been on his terms; he and Eliot hung out at i_his_/i apartment; he'd sort of expected Eliot to do the running, the feeling it gave i_him_/i of being worth enough to be pursued but also the power it gave to have Eliot off-kilter, not on home ground. It hadn't been entirely conscious on his part, more some sort of self-defense mechanism, if he didn't want Eliot around he could make it clear and Eliot would leave. He'd got everything he wanted or needed to hand, whereas Eliot would have to manage with the contents of his duffle bag or by borrowing. A wave of guilt washed through Nathan as he made a promise to himself to take better care of Eliot. He kind of wanted Eliot around, wanted this between them to work and this had made him realize that whatever they had between them was a whole lot more tentative and fragile than he'd thought before and also a whole lot more worth the effort of working to nurture.

He had no idea whether Eliot would come back and that bothered him. He thought over the time they'd been on the job of the way Eliot had tried everything to get justice and to protect Willie and his daughter Aimee. Huh! Aimee! She'd been feisty, determined not to give Eliot an iota of forgiveness for whatever had gone on between them before. He wasn't sure but he couldn't see that Eliot was really to blame but then again maybe that was just because he himself was more likely to side with the hitter than with a girl he hadn't met before.

He'd given some thought to what they'd said, how she'd accused and Eliot had defended his actions. Nathan could imagine the 'work-related' reasons that had kept Eliot away but then again the fact that she'd been getting married made it seem completely unjust of her to expect him to return to watch, stand back and see her go off with someone else.

He slid his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled Eliot's number. No answer, not that he found it particularly surprising. Nathan picked up the jacket he'd shed when he returned to the house and headed for the door. He didn't really know where to try looking, but first he could at least check out Eliot's apartment. He could make an effort to try and find him even if he didn't hold out much hope of success.

* * *

><p>Eliot's apartment was in darkness, not the faintest glimmer of light showing through any of the windows and Nathan figured there was no point in going to the effort of climbing the stairs and knocking on the door when he could see that from street level. So with a last disappointed look in its direction, Nathan resolved himself to start a tour of the local bars to track Eliot down.<p>

* * *

><p>He asked the bartenders in the first few places he tried, doing his best to describe Eliot . . . "Shorter guy, long hair, kinda muscular" got him a variety of responses from "Huh?" to the somewhat incredulous "Look around you, does that look like anyone else I might have seen?" to possibly the most frightening "Sugar, if I'd seen a guy like that, you think I'd have let him go again!" Nathan found himself hurrying out of that bar somewhat disconcerted by the reaction.<p>

He wasn't sure where else to look for Eliot and so instead, after yet one more failed attempt, he hailed a cab and headed for home; after all, tomorrow in the office would have to do, he wasn't going to gain anything from any more hours spent trawling bars without a clue where to start looking.

* * *

><p>Eliot had felt exposed throughout the whole of the con. He couldn't turn his back and ignore the fact that Willie and Aimee had needed help. It wouldn't have been right to do that, no matter how much he'd suspected it would hurt. But it had been worse than he thought; Nathan had taken the opportunity to dig and tease at the wounds left by Aimee, fueled further by her snide and bitter remarks and at the end of the day, he'd felt like everyone was laughing at him. He was an idiot; weak, a joke for them all to sneer at. He would, if he were on the other side, be laughing at the fool who'd fallen for a girl who'd promptly got herself engaged to someone else but still expected him to hang around at her beck and call. The more he thought about it, it was no wonder that Nathan didn't want people to know about them, didn't want to commit to anything more than repeated one night stands . . . Eliot knew what he meant to them all and he figured he only had himself to blame.<p>

The apartment was cold, darkening steadily as night drew in, but Eliot didn't need the lights on to maneuver round the furniture. It was something he always did anywhere he was going to stay . . . even if it were only a room for a night, he made himself memorize the lay of the furniture, the weakpoints and safe zones. He made his way across to the cupboard in which he kept the whiskey, pulling the bottle out and swinging it gently back and forth in his hand for a few moments as if considering something. He drew a deep breath and came to a decision moving away without getting a glass, taking the bottle with him.

He retreated across the room, finding the tightest corner and pulling a blanket from the sofa with him and curling up, pulling the blanket tight around himself and up to his chin, before taking a long drag from the whiskey bottle, only pulling it away when the threat of choking from lack of air became a possibility. He'd fucked up his life i_again/i_; it wasn't even worth pretending it was for the first time anymore, and for the minute he just wanted to forget, just for one night before he had to face up to reality again.

* * *

><p>The beep of the alarm on his phone began at nine the following morning (the usual post con easy morning to recover from the night before celebrations, even if that wasn't the case this time), and Eliot grudgingly stirred from his corner, groaning at the heavy feeling in his head as he trudged into the bathroom. Refreshed and considerably more alert when he emerged later, he made himself breakfast and took a couple of painkillers to get rid of another layer of the self-inflicted pain of the previous night's drinking and wished that the rest of it was as easily dealt with.<p>

He made it to the offices on time, but had deliberately not left much time to spare. On his way to the conference room, he picked up a bottle of water and then went straight for his usual seat, dropping down into it and promptly focused on opening the bottle of water with the curtest of hellos that were possible before all politeness was lost.

Hardison and Parker gave a brief return of the greeting before turning back to the conversation they'd been having before he came in. Sophie entered shortly afterwards, shot him a quick greeting before again turning her attention to the pair chatting animatedly at the other end of the table.

It left him time to return to his own thoughts and the growing suspicion that his time here was up and he should be thinking about moving on. He'd have to resign himself to the fact that he'd done the right thing for Willie, even though he felt like he was losing everything because of it. Willie had been thankful to Nate for getting the horse back, Aimee had been thankful to see him go, Sophie, Parker and Hardison didn't give a damn about him, probably just thought of him as vaguely amusing if they spared him any thought at all and Nate . . . Well he'd have to wait to be certain just how low Nate's opinion of him was now, but he clearly didn't mean as much to the man as he'd wanted, not as much as Nate had started to mean to him and so it was better if he got out now, while he still had some pride and dignity left.

* * *

><p>When Nathan finally made it into the office, he was late and hungover . . . very on the former and only just on the second. Yeah, to be precise, he'd stopped drinking, he peered blearily at his watch as he rode the elevator up to the offices, five, or maybe it was only four hours ago, almost. So in reality it was somewhat of a toss up between drunk and hungover . . . a continuum, yeah definitely a continuum.<p>

He almost lost his balance as he stumbled out of the elevator, but valiantly straightened up before he had to face the others. He'd not been able to track Eliot down the night before and, on his general round of bars, had had a few drinks. Returning home, he'd got to thinking, hadn't liked the track his thoughts were taking and so had managed to down a substantial portion of a bottle of whiskey before falling asleep.

This morning he'd been certain it was Eliot's fault. Eliot was an ass who was trying to guilt trip him into . . . yeah something. He hadn't quite worked out what Eliot was guilting him into and that was the only reason it wasn't working clearly. Not that he had any need to feel guilty he'd reminded himself. He hadn't promised Eliot anything, hadn't committed to anything more than a . . . 'friends with benefits' wasn't that the term nowadays. Anyway, less of the friendship and more of the benefit sounded good to him and if Eliot was looking for something other than that, well in that case, maybe they were better calling it a day now.

* * *

><p>The rest of the team were sitting in the conference room waiting for him, and so the meeting had started more or less as soon as Nathan had sat down. The man had been brusque, impatient and scathing. He'd sniped at Sophie, Hardison and Parker; 'too British', 'too geeky', 'too crazy', much to their disgust but he'd also very noticeably ignored Eliot, consistently speaking over the hitter as if he hadn't started to say something, cutting him off mid-sentence or just ignoring anything he did manage to get out as if he hadn't spoken at all.<p>

Nathan knew he was being a bit of an ass, but seriously, sometimes people just needed to listen and do what he said and stop arguing. Eliot was the worst of all, picking the plans apart, looking for the weak points, like he was driving to get under Nathan's skin. Honestly, it was really pissing him off and what he wanted most was to tell Eliot to shut the fuck up, and if he was so unhappy with the way things were he should just get the fuck out and stop making everyone else's life a fucking misery. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn't said that out loud because even in his own head it sounded a bit strong and quite a lot like Nathan was actually still drunk rather than the hung over that he was trying to convince himself of. If he'd let that slip out he'd have definitely found himself on the receiving end of one of Sophie's lectures on the evils of alcohol and what a waste of space he was, which would have been ironic given the woman's actual opinion of Eliot.

Anyway, it wasn't like Nathan had ever tried to lead Eliot on, make him believe they'd be something more than 'friends with benefits', so what right did Eliot have to suddenly up and decide he wanted more out of their relationship.

In truth, Nathan knew Eliot had done no such thing, he'd asked for nothing beyond what Nate had been willing to give him, regardless of what he wanted and he'd allowed everything that Nate insisted on. Nathan knew he'd treated Eliot badly, taking advantage of the younger man and that he'd not been fair.

He bit off another snipe at Eliot before it could slip out and tried to be logical and rationalize what it all meant. He was hurting; he'd wanted a fling, nothing serious, nothing that meant anything out of the sack, nothing that hinged on real emotion, real attachment and somehow, against his wishes, Eliot had snuck in under the safety net and weakened Nathan's defences. He didn't want that, so the only course of action was to finish it now, before he took the chance of Eliot doing something that would hurt him. He didn't need to see Eliot get hurt on some con and end up not recovering. He'd been through enough pain with Sam's illness and death; he didn't need to put himself in a position to watch anything like it again.

Nathan barely held back a curse as Hardison tried to question one of his demands, controlling himself enough to grit out, "iYou/i agreed to follow my lead on this, to do as I say. You want to change that agreement now? Fine, leave!"

There was a shocked look on more than just Hardison's face at Nathan's outburst. "Anything more to say on the subject? No? Good, then you can go, all of you. I've told you what you need to do," he finished dismissively.

The team looked at each other, most of them unnerved and unsure what to do. Hardison moved first, slamming his chair backwards and stalking from the room without another direct word. Parker gave another uncertain glance at Nate, before she too fled the room, in pursuit of Hardison. Sophie turned a glare on him and didn't budge, instead waiting to see if he would turn on her as well, but for the time being she got no response.

There was silence in the room as both Nathan and Sophie waited for her to break the silence like they knew she would. She wouldn't leave it be, they knew that. Only Eliot seemed outside the tension of the bristling argument and he hadn't made any move to try and break it up. Nathan was almost sorry for that. For weeks now, he'd counted on Eliot to have his back in the conference room as well as outside on the job and he missed it.

Sophie inhaled deeply before finally breaking the tension and beginning to speak, "You, Nathan, you got this team and made it into something more and now you're in danger of blowing it all out of the water, so you need to think about what you really want to achieve here and how you go about doing that, because seriously, the undercurrent of feeling just now is for us to go and leave you to rot here alone. Oh, and while you're thinking about it," she slipped a hand into his jacket pocket and removed a hip flask, "You'll be needing a clear head, so I'll take this for now." She left the room before Nathan could say a word and Eliot just silently watched the exchange without a word.

Nathan cursed briefly, before glaring at Eliot, "No doubt you want to get your two cents in as well!"

Eliot shrugged and looked away, reluctantly saying, "You do what you want, Nathan, it's got nothing to do with me, but don't expect me or them to stick around."

"Oh heaven forbid that you ever do anything for anyone else," Nathan sneered, ignoring the voice inside that was telling him to shut up, warning him not to hurt Eliot because he really didn't want to do that. It didn't stop him though, he just couldn't rein in the vitriol at the sight of Eliot alone and defeated. "Aimee had a point when she said you weren't welcome there. Someone should tell you how people here feel about you."

"Yeah, you might be right, then again maybe I don't need telling, maybe I've already got the message," Eliot replied quietly. "Nate, I'll tell you one thing though . . . you might be right about me, but you're losing a good thing right now. If you don't get a handle on the drinking, man, you'll lose them all; Hardison and Parker will go and they won't look back, and Sophie . . . I don't think even Sophie will hang round much longer."

"What would you know?" Nathan's tirade grew louder, the insults more derisive and Eliot just sat and took it all, soaked it up like a sponge and when Nate showed no signs of stopping any time soon, he drew the last of his self-respect together and stood and with a quiet 'goodbye, Nate' left the room and walked out of the office.

* * *

><p>Sophie wasn't that surprised when Hardison and Parker appeared at her office door a short while later. It wasn't like today's behavior was completely without precedent, although it was showing a very definite worsening of late. Nate's drinking was becoming unmanageable. She'd thought he was trying to get it under control, trying to deal with it, in the same way she'd thought there was something between him and Eliot.<p>

She'd heard the murmurs of discontent weeks ago from Hardison and Parker, the talk of leaving that had calmed down as Nathan seemed to ease back on the drinking. She didn't think they'd noticed that Nathan had seemed to be growing much closer to Eliot, how often the two men had arrived at the office together or left together, how often Nathan reached out to touch Eliot to draw his attention to something as if the contact was important, more important than just saying his name.

She resented Eliot for it. She'd hoped that Nathan coming to find her, to ask her to join the team, had meant something; that this time maybe they'd have had the chance to make things work between them and so the realization that Nathan merely saw her as convenient, as a colleague and nothing more had hit hard.

She'd been professional enough to keep most of her thoughts about Eliot to herself in front of Hardison and Parker, although in honesty, she'd let a few slip through. She was a grifter and she knew how to work people round to her way of thinking and sometimes it didn't take a hard sell for people's own judgmental side to come to the fore. The odd slipped in comment about Eliot being 'just muscle' or 'not intelligent like you' had had Hardison eating out of her hand, but she'd had to keep them light so that no one noticed the coercion. Parker in some respects had been easier still. The younger woman was pretty useless at reading or even vaguely understanding people, so it had been easy to overwhelm her by just 'being friends', by 'understanding' and by criticizing anyone – Eliot - who was negative toward her by saying 'they didn't understand Parker', the unspoken implication being that she did.

Nathan had seen through her actions quickly, although at first he'd missed the link to Eliot and so she'd had to be a lot more discreet, making sure she was completely professional in front of him, the consummate actress if nothing else. She knew he'd been watching trying to work out what she was trying to gain by being so close to the youngest two members of the team. When he'd challenged, she'd defended herself with claims of trying to make sure they understood what it meant to be a team and how they were only used to thinking of themselves and she was trying to nurture the secure feelings of being protected and wanting to protect in return. In the end, he'd let it slide, telling her to just be their friend and to stop trying to manipulate them. He hadn't thought to question why she made no attempt to be friends with Eliot.

She hadn't been able to hide it forever though. Things would have been different if she harbored any illusion that Nathan would respond to her but even she knew that she'd lost that battle months ago, when Nathan and Eliot had got together. She'd resented it but she'd also made the mistake of allowing it to fester inside as she tried to manipulate things round so that Nathan would get rid of Eliot and want her instead.

Over time, whenever she could, she had taken out her jealousy on Eliot. She'd always ensured that Hardison and Parker weren't around, she didn't want them to see this side of her but she also didn't want them to know that she'd lost to the brawn, that her brains and beauty hadn't been enough to tempt Nathan to her bed. Whenever she'd had the chance she'd slip a denigrating remark into whatever she was saying to Eliot, something about 'going slowly to make sure he could follow' or 'brute force not exactly needing style or intelligence to get things done'. She'd known she was being unfair and she didn't really give a damn until Nathan had taken her on one side and tried to work out what exactly her problem with Eliot was. She hadn't been prepared to turn round and say 'I think he's got you wrapped round his little finger when you should be wrapped round mine.'

She knew then that with the situation like this, she couldn't remain forever. She'd resigned herself to sticking around for a while longer to see what she could get from the situation before she moved on.


	2. Where It All Went Wrong  Chapter 2

**Part One – Where It All Went Wrong**

**Chapter Two**

As it turned out, it was looking like she'd been the lucky one. Nathan's drinking had steadily increased and Eliot was the one suffering under the brunt of Nathan's anger. She'd reassured Hardison and Parker as much as she could before ushering them out to go and start their research together, making idle promises that she would look out for them, that maybe it was time for them to think about leaving together, setting up their own company away from Nathan and Eliot. Playing to her strengths, the two of them would be useful, she could mastermind a con, using their skills alongside her own and they wouldn't need Nathan or Eliot anymore. She left her office door open once they'd left, not close enough to eavesdrop while the voices in the conference room were quiet, but with the hope that she'd at least know the outcome of the current disagreement because knowing Nathan it would end with shouting.

The conference room door opened a little while later and Nathan's voice could be heard, "You're a loser, Eliot. Nobody cares what you think . . . Fuck that! Nobody cares about you, full stop! You should leave; go find someone who cares whether you even exist."

Sophie was slightly surprised when there was no response. Nathan blathered on loudly for a while before it all went quiet again. She continued with what she'd been doing until she heard Parker and Hardison outside deciding to leave for the day. She walked out to join them, her first comment being, "Where are Nathan and Eliot?"

Parker shrugged. Hardison added quietly, "Nathan's still in there and he's still drinking," with a nod towards the conference room. "But as for Eliot, no idea. Guess he's gone home already." Within minutes the three of them were leaving the office, heading home and leaving Nathan to his solitude.

* * *

><p>A couple of days had past before Parker mentioned quietly and with a surprising degree of tact, "We haven't seen Eliot in a while and there's no sign of him even having been in to the office." Hardison frowned at the truth of her words. Nathan had been obnoxious, not even trying to be civil to anyone despite his daily presence in the office.<p>

He had taken to leaving notes or sending emails to the other members of the team with instructions detailing people and places for them to check out. The atmosphere was tense and unpleasant but quiet as everyone steered clear of everyone else for the greater part of the time.

Sophie knew it was the beginning of the end for the team, she'd also worked out that she could take Hardison and Parker with no problem while Nathan was like this, but that even now she wasn't going to win Nathan over. She wasn't going to be able to snatch him away from Eliot, even with Eliot gone.

* * *

><p>When a week had gone by and there had still been no sign of Eliot, Parker tried to coerce Sophie into talking to Nathan with offers of rappelling lessons. Hardison's chuckle from behind the younger woman showed how unappealing he thought the offer to be.<p>

With the assertion that she would indeed talk to Nathan in exchange for i_not_/i having rappelling lessons, Sophie had made her way to Nathan's office. She'd opened Nathan's door and stood there, taking in the full picture before she said anything.

Nathan was slumped back in his chair, eyes closed, clothes rumpled as if he'd slept in them. On the desk in front of him was an empty glass and a half-empty bottle of scotch. She sighed, this wasn't what she'd wanted for him, even if she couldn't have him herself, she hadn't wanted him to fall like this. Looking at him now, she wondered when the last time he'd been home was, or when he'd slept a full night in his bed.

"Nate?" she spoke softly, unsure if he was actually asleep and figuring that maybe if he was she'd come back later.

"I wondered how long you were going to stand there before you got to the point," he answered without bothering to open his eyes. "Come to tell me you're leaving or just to nag?"

"Neither. I came to see if you were alright?" She stepped fully into the office and closed the door behind her. "You're not looking so good, Nate."

"Ooh! I'm just peachy. What did you want really?" He finally opened his eyes, gaze settling on her fiercely.

"I was worried about you and . . . and Eliot."

"Eliot? What about Eliot?" There was a slight modulation in his voice that she should be able to read, but whether it was his inebriation or her own busy mind, she couldn't be certain. She didn't answer right away and he demanded again, "What about Eliot? What's happened to him?"

She knew it this time round, he was worried, he'd invested more into Eliot and now he wasn't sure . . . she'd never known Nathan not be certain, not be entirely in control of a situation, even when he'd been drinking. Eliot had rocked his world, taken his control and deserted him. She knew, rationally, that Nathan had been treating him badly, but there was no reason for Eliot to not stand up for himself and make it work. Eliot shouldn't have just walked away and left Nathan in this state, if it had been her . . .if Nate had been in this state with her, she'd have fixed him.

"Sophie! I said what's happened to Eliot."

She snapped her attention back to the matters at hand and actually tried to frame an answer. "Nobody's seen him in a few days."

"What do you mean a few days?"

She sighed, "Nate – since you and he had that argument. Nobody's seen him."

"So where is he? Why isn't he here?" She just looked at him, waiting for him to come up with the answers. It wasn't like her opinion would matter, they'd do whatever he said, whatever he wanted. If Nathan wanted to find him that's what they'd do; if not, Eliot was in the past.

* * *

><p>It was a surprise when Nathan pulled himself together enough and with a trip to the restroom behind him, after which he looked a lot more like the Nathan Ford they knew, he then called a meeting in the conference room and laid out the mission before them. They'd all got jobs to do, including the absent Eliot.<p>

Parker was the one who actually had the nerve, or maybe just the lack of fear or tact, to ask what they were going to do if Eliot wasn't there. Nathan had just snapped that Eliot would be there.

Sophie couldn't help wonder whether it was wishful thinking on Nathan's part as opposed to actual certainty. Only time would tell for now.

* * *

><p>Eliot was in the conference room, papers in front of him and a glass of water when Hardison entered. "Whoa! Hey man, 's been a long time, wasn't expecting to see you here this morning. How are you?"<p>

Eliot looked up and Hardison was a little shocked at how pale and drawn Eliot looked, but he smiled. "Hey, it's all good. I've been around, you know, just needed a little downtime." Hardison resisted the urge to say that he actually looked more in need of downtime now than he had when they'd finished the last job. "I'm just catching up on the details," Eliot gestured to the papers in front of him. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Hardison thought for a moment or two, sat down beside Eliot and pulled the papers a little closer to flick through them, wondering how to broach what he wanted to say. "I think you've got all the details here," he said slowly, pretending that he was actually checking out the pages in front of him, "Just . . . Just, Eliot, are you okay, man? You look a little . . ." He fell quiet, no idea how to finish what he'd started to say.

Eliot smiled, it was a genuine smile as he said, "Don't worry, there's nothing the matter with me that a couple of good nights' sleep wouldn't cure. I'll be fine, I promise, won't let any of ya down."

It was strange, Hardison hadn't been thinking about anyone but Eliot's safety. It dawned on him for the first time that he had no doubt whatsoever that the team's hitter could be at death's door and he'd still be fighting to protect the rest of them. Sure the team hadn't been together that long, but it was long enough to know without a shadow of doubt that Eliot was both loyal to his team-mates when they were working and that he would put other people's safety above his own. "Was thinking about you. Never thought for an instant that you wouldn't look out for everyone else."

Eliot nodded, "Like I said before, I'm fine."

The meeting was over quickly, just a recap to make sure everyone had the final details down and knew their parts. It was quiet, Nathan sticking to the point and being succinct, all his bitter outbursts of the last couple of weeks held back. Eliot was quiet, keeping his concentration firmly on his papers looking up only when addressed directly. Sophie was polite, relieved that he was there and that he had agreed to the plan so far. He was to be her back up on the ground, the two of them going in to face the bad guys together. She needed his muscle to carry this off and to get her out if it blew up in her face.

Parker seemed delighted to have Eliot back and had edged her chair so close to his that she was almost in his lap, constantly reaching out to touch him, pinch him or brush his hair out of his eyes. She had a frown across her forehead as if there was something troubling her, but she wasn't entirely sure how to broach the subject. Each time her frown deepened, she would brush her hand through Eliot's hair again, he'd sigh and gently lift her hand away, laying it back on the table in front of her with a gentle pat and a small smile, before seeming to turn his attention back to the papers in front of him.

* * *

><p>As soon as the meeting was over, Nathan left the room, leaving the others to talk. He might have been surprised by how little was said, but in reality he'd stepped away to let the others welcome Eliot back into the fold. They needed to be a team and to be a team there had to be understanding between them. He was on the outside, an overseer, that was all.<p>

He hadn't failed to notice the tiredness in Eliot's eyes, the edge of tension in his shoulders that hadn't been rubbed away and soothed. He knew a lot of it was his fault, not all, but more than enough for him to be feeling guilty. He knew he'd been treating the younger man badly, making demands but ignoring Eliot's requests. He knew that Eliot's claims to sleep only ninety minutes a night were not entirely fabrication. Eliot slept less than anyone else Nathan had ever known and lighter as well, the least noise in the apartment would have him jerking awake. Stress, tension or pain would all exacerbate the situation, reducing the ninety minutes blocks of sleep further still.

Nathan had taken the first step the previous day by actually going to Eliot's apartment. He'd knocked on the door and waited and when there was no answer, he'd tried again, before sitting down outside the apartment leaning against the door to wait for Eliot's return. He'd been there for thirty minutes when the door suddenly opened and he fell backwards into the room on the other side.

It was debatable which of them had blushed more ferociously at the embarrassment of being caught out, but Nathan had just pushed forward and begun to try and convince Eliot to agree to join the team for 'just' one more job. It had layered more guilt on his soul as Eliot had asked about the rest of the team and why Nathan was so determined to have him back when he held so little respect for Eliot.

The conversation had been awkward and stilted but Nathan had worked out enough from the little that Eliot had said to know that he wasn't blameless for the current state of affairs. The way their relationship had been before they'd headed down to Kentucky to deal with Willie Martin's problems had left Eliot off-kilter, feeling vulnerable and like he'd committed more to the relationship than Nathan. Nathan wanted to believe that wasn't his fault; he'd never promised Eliot anything so it wasn't his fault if the younger man had invested more of himself in the relationship.

Down in Kentucky, Eliot had been reminded of a previous failed relationship, one that the more Nathan found out about it, the more similarities it seemed to bear to the one they now shared. One that had been run on Aimee's terms, to please her and Eliot had tried and tried to keep her happy. Tying the timelines up based on what he knew of Eliot's past, the more Eliot's relationship with Aimee had gone to hell, the worse the jobs he'd taken, laying his life more and more on the line.

It made him look more closely at their own relationship and he realized the more off-hand he was with Eliot, the more ridiculous the risks Eliot took on jobs.

Eliot hadn't needed to say much the previous day for Nathan to realize that Eliot had been leaving; but one look round had showed him clearly that the never cluttered apartment was sparser still. Eliot was in the process of severing ties ready to leave.

When he'd challenged Eliot, he knew he'd sounded harsher than he intended, knew that the thought he'd almost been too late to catch Eliot was twisting him up inside. He was throwing this all away and he didn't want that. He really didn't like the thought of a future without Eliot in it. "So you're moving on then," he had griped. "Bailing?"

Eliot's head had dropped. There'd been silence for a moment or two, until Eliot had turned away, then looking back over his shoulder, he'd said quietly, "It's only bailing, if people want and need you around. That's not the case, so I guess, I'm not bailing, I'm just leaving and moving on."

"I should never have said that, Eliot." Nathan watched Eliot closely as he began his apology, saw the nonchalant shrug along with the way Eliot wouldn't catch his eye. "El . . . El, I'm sorry." He moved closer, a hand reaching out to catch hold of Eliot's shoulder only for Eliot to twist away.

"Don't! Don't pretend, I don't . . . What's the job?" and in that moment, Nathan knew he'd completely fucked up and it wasn't going to be easy to fix. He'd have to start by getting Eliot back into the team, getting him to accept that the things he'd said and done in relation to Eliot's place on the team weren't real.

Nathan gave him the quick details of the job and how he really did need Eliot to keep Sophie in particular safe on the ground. He'd nodded, asked what time they were meeting the following day and then guided Nathan deliberately to the door, telling him to leave the details on his desk and he'd be there in the morning.

* * *

><p>If Nathan was honest, it was a relief to see Eliot sat at the conference table in the morning. For all that Eliot had seemed to agree to it the previous day, he wasn't entirely convinced that Eliot would turn up. He'd been perturbed by the pallor of the other man's complexion under the harsh office lights and the shadows that lay starkly below his eyes. Eliot looked drained and Nathan couldn't deny the existence of the urge inside to take care of the younger man, even as he worked at pushing it to one side and getting on with the day's business.<p>

* * *

><p>Everything went to plan as far as the con was concerned. Sophie and Eliot were still inside the warehouse as the mark left, leaving them behind with the bribe money and getting in his own headstart on the money front. It was amusing to think that he was racing away to his own home where he would be picked up by the police with enough drugs to keep a cartel running smoothly in the trunk of his car, while believing that the police were on their way to pick up Sophie and Eliot for gun-running and money laundering. Parker was also inside concealed as an extra lookout, out of sight of the mark and his men.<p>

As the mark sped away, he passed Hardison's black van on its way in, more proof if he'd needed any that 'his' plan had worked. Nathan allowed himself a wry smile of satisfaction at another job accomplished so easily. Maybe he could salvage the team from this; convince Hardison, Parker and Sophie to stay, reconcile with Eliot. Maybe all would be well in the world again.

They'd just climbed out of the car, crossing the lot in no rush when the bizarre sense of the ground moving had Hardison falling to the floor and Nathan tumbling to his knees. It was nothing, over as quickly and suddenly as it began and the world fell silent again.

The two men were just climbing back to their feet when sound crashed back in again and Parker's scream of "Eliot!" could be heard echoing through the deserted warehouse and out into the surroundings.


	3. First Steps Beyond  Chapter 1

**Finding A New Road**

**Part Two - First Steps Beyond**

** Chapter One**

Sophie sat beside the bed. He was sleeping again. She sighed; the medical staff had said that was the least of the worries and entirely to be expected when the drugs, the damage, the pain and the healing were all taken into consideration.

He didn't look like Eliot like this; sleeping. It was just '_sleeping'_ though in Sophie's mind. Over the last few days she'd found herself forced into accepting some difficult facts with regard to the man beside her, not least was the fact that he was a far better person than she was, no matter what she'd liked to think before.

Theirs had been a rocky relationship from the start. Trust issues . . . Yup, they both had trust issues, unsurprising in their line of work. After all it wasn't like Parker and Hardison didn't have their own difficulties on that front. The difference in part was history . . . Eliot, Parker and Hardison had had 'difficult' childhoods, she'd had a perfectly ordinary childhood, but she'd been entranced by the ideas of riches beyond her dreams and by the discovery of ways to get them without a day to day slog in a nine to five job.

Her first 'job' had been . . . an accident of sorts. She hadn't set out to con anyone; it's just that the end result had been sort of . . . yeah, sort of a con. _He_'d fallen for her across a room at an event, she hadn't even noticed him. He'd crossed the room, started a conversation and one thing had led to another; he'd swept her off her feet, regaled her with stories that had entranced her, capturing her imagination, fueling her dreams. She'd fallen for him, or at least she'd thought she had at the time. With hindsight, she knew it wasn't him she'd fallen for; it was the image, the high life, parties and gifts. He'd lavished her with attention, shown her 'the life' she wanted. She'd played the part, been who he wanted her to be. Or at least, she had until she'd got bored, then she'd taken the gifts and walked away.

It had been the start of something. The next time had been even easier; a new man, new riches and she'd walked away even quicker. Greed! Even she couldn't pretend that until Nathan had co-opted her help into the team that had become Leverage Consulting her actions hadn't been motivated by anything other than unadulterated self-interest and plain old greed.

The more she'd learned about her team-mates, she'd come to recognize more of their motivations. Everything Parker and Hardison did was about self-preservation; protecting themselves from the outside world and taking as much as they could before they could be hurt. They were used to being short-changed by the world, so they knew they needed to look out for number one.

Nathan . . . well Nathan was all about the underdog too, but generally less self-centered about it. He just liked to poke one in the eye of any big corporation who was cheating the man on the street. Eliot though . . . Even now, Sophie wasn't sure she really understood Eliot. Self-interest certainly played a part, but it wasn't the whole; nothing like the whole, too many layers, too many shades and hidden tones. She'd read him at first as nothing more than brawn, a muscled brute, useful but not worthy of any more attention than that. It had been a mistake.

Losing Nathan to Eliot had been the first surprise, she hadn't seen that one coming - in either man! Finding out that Eliot wasn't just a brute; that he had an ability to cook with real finesse, an ability to cook that implied a real understanding of food, of different cultures, of palate, of the delicacies and subtleties of flavors and spices and seasoning, she'd had to adjust her thinking of him again. All of that indicated a far greater degree of intelligence than she'd ever suspected him of having.

He'd been calm, collected, he'd ignored her jibes, never once raising his voice against her tirades. The worst thing he'd ever done was to turn his back on her and walk away. It was the ultimate dismissal and they both knew it; it meant she wasn't a threat; she wasn't even worth consideration, not as a threat to his relationship with Nathan and certainly not as a physical threat to him personally. It was always Nathan who had argued and railed against the way she spoke to Eliot, against the way she treated him, against the way she would glibly suggest that Eliot stand between them all and danger as if she were suggesting he run to the grocery store, ignoring that it was his _life_ she was toying with.

It made the current situation more ironic really. Eliot in hospital and it wasn't deliberately her fault. It had been an accident, a nasty, vicious, almost fatal accident and if it weren't for Eliot, she would be the one lying in the bed fighting for her life. A teetering pile of packing cases in a rundown warehouse and an earth tremor, not even enough to be called a real earthquake, barely registering on the Richter scale, but enough to set the pile moving. Eliot had realized first what was happening, dived directly at her, pushing her forward so violently she'd almost flown across the room, landing a good distance away on her hands and knees, tumbling further before coming to rest.

When she'd stood up, furious, hands and knees scuffed and bloodied with a lump and the start of a bruise on her forehead, she turned with a vicious invective ready to fall from her lips, only to register the crates smashed on the floor, the sudden silence, the hand lying limp on the floor poking out from below the broken timbers. The silence was broken by Parker's scream of "Eliot!" and before she really had time to process what was happening, Nathan and Hardison were bursting in through the door at a run and joining Parker as they all began scrabbling amongst the planks trying to get to Eliot.

They'd had just enough sense not to move him and to call an ambulance. He'd been unmoving, barely breathing. In fact the biggest fear they'd voiced was that he'd stop breathing before the arrival of the paramedics and that they'd _have_ to move him. It had been a pitiful sight to see Nathan sat beside him on the floor, one hand sifting through Eliot's hair murmuring to him to hang on and not give up, seemingly oblivious to the slowly growing pool of blood below Eliot.

He'd actually stopped breathing on his own in the ambulance and several times since until they'd managed to get him stabilized and some of the damage repaired. He was breathing on his own again now, the blood loss was rectified, the broken bones set. But it hadn't been enough. Eliot wasn't about to just get better. They were talking now about permanent damage and the need to assess just how bad the situation was. . .

Nathan hadn't stopped by while Eliot was awake in weeks now . . . Hardison and Parker came by daily, but Sophie was the one sitting at Eliot's bedside for hour after hour. Sophie was the one trying to calm him when he woke up and didn't know where he was . . . again. Sophie was the one facing the blank unknowing look when he didn't even know who she was.

She looked at him and realized he was awake. She forced a smile back on to her face, only to follow it with a look of surprise as he said, "Sophie?" quietly.

"Yes, Eliot, that's right. I'm Sophie."

"J-j-just you."

"Just me right now." She tried not to wince at the sound of his stutter. The doctors had warned against saying or doing anything that would increase the stress he was under. One doctor had said that he would find it harder to remember things from before or even to form new memories if he was under stress, that drawing attention to things he didn't know or things he was getting wrong would add to the stress. This was the first time he'd woken up calmly, known her name, known that there might be other visitors, although it wasn't clear so far if he knew who the other visitors might be.

"D-d-dragon? D-done?" She could see the frustration but she had no idea what to do to make it easier for him, no idea what he wanted to say. He looked away, one hand clenching in the sheets.

She moved closer, sitting back down on the chair beside him, her hand resting over his gently. "It's okay, Eliot. Just take your time, we'll get there." She watched as his eyes closed, squeezing tight as if to hold back tears. "Sssh. Don't fret, sweetheart." She didn't know where the tenderness came from, it wasn't something she'd ever really felt the need to express for real. She'd pretended a few times, but suddenly she realized this wasn't an act, she actually really did mean it.

He nodded slowly, opened his eyes to look at her and then tried again. He had another couple of tries before finally hitting on "Doctor". Aphasia was what the doctor had called it the first time it had happened. So far they hadn't been able to tell the extent of the condition or whether it was going to be permanent. Eliot, never one for saying a huge amount, had only attempted a few one or two word responses. Between the pain he was in, the medication they were giving him and the exhaustion, he didn't seem to want to fight the frustration to persist with communication.

"Okay, I'll get him." She started to move to go and fetch a medic, but Eliot's hand grasped hers and she paused, looking back. "I'll be right back." He shook his head, wincing at the movement; the flicker of pain in his eyes had her resting her free hand against his cheek. "Does your head hurt?"

"Y-y-yellow." She ignored the mistake, offering instead words of reassurance as she reached for the call button rather than moving away. It was something else to mention to the doctor, maybe another clue to the severity of the damage done that when the aphasia was affecting his speech many of Eliot's words still began with the right letter. She hoped that maybe this was a good sign.

A nurse appeared moments later and Sophie explained that Eliot was in pain, the nurse hurried away and it wasn't long before the doctor was striding authoritatively into the room. "Okay, so you're awake again, Mr. Spencer," the doctor's deep tones said hurriedly.

Sophie felt the twitch of his hand tightening on hers, saw an unexpected fear in his eyes. She was struck by how much younger he looked than the Eliot she was familiar with. She was used to thinking of Parker and Hardison as just kids, but not Eliot. She smiled hoping it was reassuring. His grip faltered and he began to pull his hand away until she tightened her grip and rubbed her thumb across his knuckles.

The doctor's spiel continued and she began to pay more attention to what he was saying. She watched as he took two pieces of paper and wrote 'Yes' on one and 'No' on the other before placing them in front of Eliot. "We're going to try this, Eliot. Just rest your hand on the one you think is the right answer." He looked up at Sophie saying, "If you wouldn't mind just stepping back for now."

Reluctantly Sophie let go, closing her eyes to break the eye contact with Eliot, letting her ignore his silent plea. The doctor began immediately, "Is your name Eliot?"

"Y-y-" Eliot began before the doctor cut him short, indicating the words on the paper before him. Eliot glowered before moving his hand over to the word yes.

"Good, that's fine. Now is your surname Spender?" Eliot looked confused, hand hovering between the words. Sophie could imagine the turmoil inside as he didn't know what the answer was supposed to be, vague recollection of other names would maybe come back to him and she could almost feel the panic rising in him. He didn't know, his breath shortened and she could see as he began to tremble. The doctor's voice cut through the growing panic, "Eliot, calm down and breathe." Once he had most of Eliot's attention, he continued, "I'm going to ask you another question, a i_different_ question/i and I want you to see if you can answer this one. Are you Eliot i_Spencer_/i?" He put an extra emphasis on the change to the surname.

The shaking and panting breaths were threatening to overwhelm him, until the doctor sat down beside him and caught his hand and rested it between the two pieces of paper and asked the question again, "Are you Eliot Spencer?"

His fingers twitched towards, but didn't quite settle on the 'yes' and the doctor smiled. "You're doing fine, Eliot," he reassured. "Here we go then, another question. Ready? Have you eaten breakfast today?" Eliot frowned. Sophie knew this was a far less threatening question, there'd been enough of Eliot left inside to either know that he'd used other identities and not be sure 'who' he was supposed to be now or to be confused by memories of those other identities without the clarity of 'owning' any one of them. Now he would be less concerned by the rightness of the answer, more perplexed by the fact that he wasn't sure.

She watched as he looked round him for a clue, looked towards the window, hoping for an answer, all the time trying to dredge through his mind for a memory of eating recently. She saw a slight frown as if he'd finally found a vague sense of having eaten, perhaps a blurry memory of the morning's toast. He moved his hand to the yes but the doctor could see the lack of certainty in his eyes. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Eliot sighed that was easier; he moved his hand to the yes. "Brother?" Eliot's hand rested on the no. "Sister then. You're doing well. Older sister?" Another yes. "Any more?" No. Sophie couldn't remember now when she'd found out about Eliot's family, his sister . . . half sister to be more precise and she'd left home when he was young, gone to live with her dad but they'd kept in touch.

Eliot frowned and Sophie wondered what he was remembering now. The doctor had explained that it was possible that glimmers of memories would return, enough to confuse rather than clarify situations. She imagined a stray memory of his mother arguing with a man, his sister's dad she thought . . . the argument was about him. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus back on the here and now of reality, not some half-dreamed-of concept of what life growing up was like for Eliot. "Eliot? Eliot, are you with me?" Eliot blinked looking back at the doctor sadly, tiredly.

"Eliot, are you in pain?" That one was easy, Eliot pointed to yes. "Where?" The doctor began to draw a rough sketch of a body on another piece of paper but Eliot stopped him, pointing instead directly at his arm, his chest and his head before his hand dropped back to the covers. "Okay, scale of 1 to 5 for each? One is not too bad and five is bad."

Indicating his ribs and chest, Eliot held up two fingers, then frowned, changed it to four before fisting his hand in frustration. His head dropped and he brought his hand up to cover his face. Sophie moved forward sitting down on the opposite side of the bed to the doctor and wrapping her arms round to draw Eliot towards her. It said a lot that he didn't offer any resistance to the movement. She murmured reassurances and then she asked softly, "Where hurts most, Eliot?" She slid her hand in his and he lifted it to the side of his head.

"Okay, sweetheart. Are your ribs bad?" He moved her hand to the worst of the pain but gave a small shrug which she and the doctor both took to mean that it wasn't as bad as his head. "What about your arm?" The small flip of his hand gave her the impression of discomfort rather than real pain.

"Okay, Eliot. We need to do some tests. I'd like to do some with you today. I explained to you yesterday that you are suffering from a condition called Aphasia. It's why it's so difficult to get the words you want out. Do you remember?" Eliot's hand hovered over the yes before edging towards the no. The doctor frowned and rephrased the question, "Do you remember _some_ of what we talked about?"

Eliot's hand settled on the yes. "Okay. I need to do a test to find out how severe the problem is. Now I know that this is going to be frustrating, when you can't get the words you want but please just hang on in there. Give it your best shot."

He reached for a set of cards and a Dictaphone. He clicked the recorder on, then held up the first picture. Eliot looked at it blankly. It was clear to both observers that he was trying to think but nothing was coming to him. Eliot had no idea what the picture showed, no idea of any word that might go with it. Sophie saw as the sudden thought occurred to him that there was the possibility that it was going to be like this with all of the pictures, supposing he wouldn't recognize any of them.

Sophie shifted beside him, moving closer so that she could rest against the bed head and she let her arm drop round his shoulders. The doctor put the picture down and lifted the second. This one made sense much to Eliot's obvious relief, it was a dog. Easy! He opened his mouth and said, "D-dead." It took a moment for the word to register back with him and for him to realize it wasn't what he'd set out to say. "N-no! D-d-d-drip." It still wasn't the word he wanted, so he tried again, finally stammering out the word 'dog'. He looked away embarrassed.

"It's okay, Eliot," Sophie reassured, her hand stroking lightly on the top of his arm.

The doctor tried to clarify again what was happening, that Eliot had this time known the word, but that he didn't seem to be able to co-ordinate the right word leaving his mouth. "We're going to keep going with this, Eliot. I know it's hard. Don't be disheartened and don't worry. If you're anxious, you could make it harder to process the information correctly. Don't be embarrassed, Sophie and I understand. You _know_ the words, we understand that."

They carried on for about twenty minutes with Eliot managing to get some words right straight away and others after two or three attempts. After twenty minutes though, things seemed to get worse. Suddenly Eliot went from saying random words that did at least begin with the right letter, to saying words that had no link at all to the word he needed and rapidly from there to words that weren't even real, just collections of sounds. The doctor frowned as he decided to stop the test. "We'll stop there for today, Eliot. I think you're feeling tired now, aren't you?"

Eliot's hand jerked towards the papers still on his lap, but the doctor could see the confusion as he didn't point to either. "It's okay, we're stopping now." Eliot shook his head, reaching for more cards, but Sophie held him back and the doctor explained again that they were stopping. Suddenly Eliot's eyes rolled back in his head and his body was hit by a convulsion. The doctor moved forward urgently, shifting Eliot's body over to the recovery position and observing cautiously, relieved when Eliot gradually settled, his body no longer held in the grasp of the seizure. He sent a nurse for a mild sedative and Eliot was soon resting peacefully. Sophie was pacing anxiously on the far side of the room.

"Ms Devereaux, I'm going to have further tests carried out. Obviously we need to investigate this further but don't feel that this is automatically a pessimistic prognosis. Given the degree of injury, it is possible for a person to suffer a few seizures in the aftermath and as the brain heals for them to pass entirely independently. Also if this should be the start of a more long term condition, there are some very effective anticonvulsants available. We would be able to monitor Eliot and hopefully bring the condition under control and make it completely manageable for him."

* * *

><p>It was a difficult situation. Sophie wasn't really sure why she'd taken on this role. It wasn't like her, it <em>really<em> wasn't, to spend day after day, hour after hour sitting in the hospital. She was finding it hard to deal with her own emotions about the situation. She shared the younger man's frustration as he battled to make progress in his recovery. She was amazed at his strength and determination but she had come to recognize when he was reaching the end of what he could take at any one time.

His speech was improving, the aphasia gradually becoming less severe, and the stutter less noticeable when they talked. She'd taken on the role of cheerleader and drill sergeant, cheering him on for effort and success, but also refusing to allow him to hide or give up. She knew he talked less, chose his words more carefully when Parker and Hardison came to visit. Image . . . he wasn't being left with much of the image he'd had before; he could no longer protect his friends, she recognized that and so she let him get away with avoiding "embarrassing" himself in front of the younger pair, but when it was just the two of them she pushed him to stretch himself as much as possible.

She was relieved that there had been no more convulsions since the first and that Eliot didn't actually seem to really remember that one. The doctor was beginning to talk of plans for discharging Eliot from the hospital, wanting them to make decisions about what would happen and how they would manage his release. She didn't know what to say. Nathan was like a huge white elephant in any conversation.

Eliot didn't mention him at all and Nathan himself hadn't been near the hospital as far as she knew in what now seemed like forever. In truth the few times he had visited had either been while Eliot was still unconscious or when he was sleeping, visiting at ridiculous times of night. In fact, at one point Sophie had believed he hadn't visited at all, only for one of the nurses to ask if she could tell the gentleman, Mr. Ford, that visiting at such a late hour was really inappropriate as patients needed uninterrupted rest. Two weeks later and the complaint had been even worse, not only had Nathan turned up at ten minutes before midnight, he'd been well on his way to being drunk. Sophie dreaded to think how much that meant he'd actually drunk that the nurses had been able to tell, after all Nathan was a pro when it came to hiding inebriation. Nothing more had been said, so she assumed that was the last visit he'd paid.

Sophie was frustrated. She didn't know what to do . . . she wasn't used to tiptoeing round a subject like this. She was reluctant to force the subject with Eliot, he was dealing with too much already and in all honesty, she wondered if he even remembered who Nathan was or that they had been together. He had certainly made no mention of him to her and as far as she knew he'd said nothing to Parker or Hardison. She had no intention of upsetting him when he was doing so well. His memory was patchy, he had no recollection of the day of the accident at all, the weeks before and after had great chunks that seemed to come and go.

Nathan, on the other hand, Sophie _was_ annoyed at. She got that he didn't like hospitals, that it brought back horrendous memories for him, but he'd professed a love for Eliot as he lay unconscious on the warehouse floor; he'd made promises, admittedly not ones Eliot knew anything about, promises to quit drinking and to make everything right between them if Eliot would just hang on, just survive, just be okay. It wasn't supposed to be that simple to just ignore those so called expressions of love and Eliot had done more than even the doctors had thought possible at first and he hadn't stopped struggling to improve yet.

Planning for Eliot's release from hospital meant she needed to face the facts head on. She wasn't sure that it would be right for Eliot to come out and go to stay with Nathan; she didn't know what Eliot's reaction would be to being dropped off with someone who, for all she knew at the moment, might be a total stranger to him. She also knew how reluctant he was to admit to difficulties in front of Parker and Hardison; she didn't want to put him in a situation with them or Nathan where he felt he couldn't be honest. She knew more, she was learning to recognize some of the tells.

"Eliot," she ventured, "The doctor's been talking about you leaving here soon. I was thinking you might want to stay with me for a week or two. I have a spare room. It might be easier just for a while . . . for you."

"S-stay you?" Eliot looked at her in surprise. "M-m-my h-horse . . . hops . . . h-house, where?"

She looked at him, hiding the sadness within, knowing he'd had a hard day and was tired which always seemed to make it harder for him to communicate, as she said firmly, "Try again, Eliot. You need to use full sentences or it's not going to get any easier."

He sighed and did as she had said, "D-do ye-yellow . . . you wwant me to stay with you? I-I'll be way the in."

"That was good, you _can_ do it. You won't be _in the way_; it would be fine for you to stay with me. I wouldn't mind at all. You might find it a little easier before you're on your own to come and stay with me for a while."

"I – I'm no-not stupid."

"Absolutely, I'm not for an instant suggesting that you are. Eliot, you've been working hard and you're doing really well."

"Not I good enough on own." She saw him squint his eyes closed for a moment, then draw in a deep breath before trying again much slower, "I'm not good enough to be on my-my own."

"That was good. It'll get easier, Eliot, I'm sure this will all keep getting easier. Will you come and stay, please?" He nodded briefly to her relief.


	4. First Steps Beyond Chapter 2

**Finding A New Road**

**Part Two - First Steps Beyond**

** Chapter Two**

It was another two weeks of rehabilitation in the hospital before the doctor agreed on an actual date to release Eliot. As well as the strategies they'd worked on to improve his speech, there had been work on strengthening his memory and helping him regain his balance which had also been affected by the injury to his head.

Sophie had been home, set up her spare room in a way that she hoped would help him settle and feel welcome. She'd adjusted the furniture in the living room at the same time to give more room to move around, hoping to prevent an accident but also to pre-empt him even being worried about knocking into anything. She'd been shopping to stock the kitchen with fresh foods, anything that might tempt Eliot to eat better than he had been doing in the hospital, things that might even lure him into the kitchen to take part in the preparation, even if she would need to lurk and check on him while he was there.

He'd currently got little concept of time, was easily distracted from tasks and was still having difficulty with numerical understanding. None of which made leaving him alone in the kitchen for long ideal but she recognized that he needed something, some purpose, a goal to achieve and right now the only one he'd got was getting out of hospital.

He'd lost weight on the hospital diet as he had little appetite for the simple but pretty dismal fare they served each day. That factor when combined with the lack of his usual strict regime of exercise had led to a distinct loss of muscle tone. He seemed smaller and more fragile now and fixing it was going to take a lot more time and effort than losing it had done.

* * *

><p>Nathan had taken another swig from the bottle before climbing slowly out of the car. He hated this, hated coming to the hospital, the surge of memories; Sam and Maggie and Sam's final days, hours and minutes; Eliot lying motionless on the warehouse floor and trying to ignore the blood spreading out beneath him; Eliot connected to machines that kept him alive for days that dragged on and on; Eliot looking at him blankly, no sign of recognition in his eyes. He shuddered and gripped at the car door, dragging an unsteady breath.<p>

He couldn't deal with this. He couldn't _keep_ dealing with this. He was tempted to take another swig from the bottle or maybe just to get back in the car and leave, no one would know the difference after all. His memory replayed that moment when Eliot had looked at him and shown no interest again. There had been no recognition and it had hurt, burned inside. Supposedly Eliot was getting better now, supposedly he was recognizing and remembering people more often, but Nathan couldn't bring himself to face the searing pain that accompanied that utter lack of recognition again. It was easier to come at night, easier to come when there was no chance of Eliot being awake, avoiding the possibility of being met by that look again. He knew that Eliot was heavily medicated most of the time as the medics tried to give his body time to heal, knew that he was given sedatives at night because they thought he should be sleeping.

Part of him wondered how Eliot felt about that, if it actually left the younger man rested for once. He'd needed sleep before they took this job on.

Determinedly, Nathan closed the door and crossed the parking lot, making his way into the hospital and up to Eliot's room, ignoring all the signs that said 'No admittance outside of visiting hours' with a list of acceptable hours below. He walked with a calm authoritative air that got him passed most of the security guards as they just assumed he was a consultant from another area of the hospital. They'd seen him around often enough in the last few weeks for him to be familiar but not quite placeable.

Making it up the stairs to the ward where Eliot was kept, he watched from the shadows, out of sight, until the nurses were all occupied and then slipped down the few feet to Eliot's room, sliding in and closing the door behind him.

For someone who should have been resting plenty, Eliot still looked pale, the skin below his closed eyes shadowed. He looked more drawn. Nathan had noticed how over time Eliot didn't really look like he was getting better, didn't look like his health was returning, despite Sophie, Hardison and Parker's reports to the contrary. Eliot didn't look like he'd eaten a good meal in weeks either, which Nathan thought resignedly he probably hadn't.

He watched silently, holding back on the urge to touch, to run his fingers through Eliot's hair or lay a hand on his chest to feel for himself the smoothness of the breathing. Instead he moved the chair closer and sat down, ready to watch as long as he could in the hope that this would help him make sense of the welter of feelings inside.

He'd sat here for hour after hour now, hoping for some glimmer of hope, but he was no nearer finding the absolution he sought. Logically, even practically, he knew that no blame lay at his door for Eliot's injuries, probably not even for his memory loss, although the doctors had apparently said that there was the possibility that in some way stress was playing a part. They'd suggested that if there was something in his past that he didn't feel able to cope with, he may have shut down his memory while his body tried to heal physically. If they were right, then Nathan knew a good portion of the blame could be laid at his door, or at least for the recent stuff. Eliot had more than enough in the more distant past that could be playing on his mind.

He sighed, it was no good wishing, it was too late to change anything and in honesty, if he'd known it would end here . . . he stopped short of trying to convince himself that he would have stopped the relationship sooner. What was the point in lying, what was the point in trying to change the past. The point was he had kept going, he kept on keeping Eliot hanging, giving him just enough to keep him coming back for more and the god's honest truth was that he'd done that because he had wanted Eliot to keep coming back.

Eliot stirred restlessly and Nathan's focus was brought back to the reality of the room they were in. A sheen of sweat had broken out across Eliot's forehead and Nathan knew what that meant, a slight moan and shift of Eliot's head confirmed his suspicions; Eliot was having a nightmare. He'd been surprised to discover that part of Eliot's only sleeping ninety minutes a night was due for the biggest part to his ongoing fight with nightmares.

Nathan knew that when Eliot awoke alone, he would just get up and potter round his apartment 'getting things done'. Nights spent with Nathan had changed that a little. Eliot still woke, still got up and wandered the apartment for a while, but he would also return to bed, lying down tense but quiet alongside Nathan; and if Nathan slipped an arm over his waist, holding him close or at least keeping him still, over time he would relax before finally dropping back to sleep.

Nathan stopped holding back and reached out a hand to rest on Eliot's forehead. He'd not done it often at home but when he had, it had worked more often than not. A hand slipped gently onto his forehead, soothing words into his ear, reminding him where he was, why he wasn't in danger and he would slip back into deeper and more restful sleep.

At home it was awkward, the nightmares were yet another thing they didn't speak of, something else between them that instead of bringing them closer threatened to drive them apart. Nathan was afraid of the night's when his soft soothing words would not be enough to shift Eliot from nightmare to deeper dreamless sleep and instead Eliot would wake, frantic with his heart racing and they would both need to acknowledge the truth of what was happening.

By contrast were the nights when Nathan was too tired to react to Eliot's nightmares until the younger man would jerk awake with a gasp, sweat drenching his t-shirt. He would then peer anxiously across at Nathan as if to make sure he hadn't stirred, before slipping out of bed and exiting the room. Nathan had never dared to ask, even when things between them were going well, but on some nights, Eliot would slip down to the guest room and shower away the rest of the nightmare. He would then change clothes and pace the apartment for a while as if to check that nothing would endanger the apartment's occupants. He would head into the kitchen finding things to do, quiet preparation of intricate dishes, or into the lounge where he'd pick up a book and devour its contents for hour after hour until he would return and lie stiffly at Nathan's side. A sleepy shift and roll on Nathan's part, arm slipping over Eliot's waist and the younger man would force his body to relax, force himself to breathe deeper and settle and sometimes he would actually drift back into sleep.

It was like so much in their relationship; Nathan knew what was wrong, but didn't want to face up to dealing with the problems. He didn't want to be attached enough to need to know what kept Eliot from sleeping, in the same way he hadn't let him do more than bring an overnight bag which he kept in the guest room. Temporary. If he kept everything as just temporary and convenient then he couldn't be hurt.

Or so he'd thought . . . looking down at Eliot now, he realized that wasn't true at all.

* * *

><p>A few more days had passed before it had been deemed time for Eliot to leave. He'd been anxious about Sophie's offer but seemed to have accepted that going to live on his own was a bad thing. He hadn't said anything directly but Sophie realized he was actually pretty worried about leaving the hospital at all.<p>

"Eliot? Eliot?" He finally turned his eyes to her, seemingly surprised to see her there. "So are you looking forward to getting out of here?" Sophie was relieved that Eliot didn't lie and when she asked him a direct question he would try to answer. She knew he wasn't volunteering information, knew that she had to be certain to give him the time to frame his answers, sometimes even asking a question in a different way to be sure he understood what she was asking. The aphasia had principally affected his ability to say what he wanted to say, but she had learned that at times he needed information to be clarified for him. If he was tired or worried, every stage of communicating became more difficult as a result.

"Don't know. I – I don't know what happens then. What I do next? What will I do after?" he said anxiously.

* * *

><p>Settling into Sophie's apartment had not been as difficult as either of them had imagined. When they'd first arrived, Eliot had looked round in confusion as if he had some vague memory of it from before but this didn't fully match. Then as he'd made his way across the lounge wearily following Sophie to the room she had decided would be his and she'd caught his arm to stop him losing his balance, he'd flushed with embarrassment at the realization that she'd had to change things round to account for him.<p>

She'd stopped nonplussed at his embarrassment and unsure of its cause. "Y-yyyou mmoved things," he said bluntly. "Bbecause of me."

She sighed, "Yes, Eliot, but that's okay. I've just moved things so we've got a bit more room to move around. That's all." She looked at him again, the car journey had been rough on him. With the day's traffic, it had taken almost an hour to get from the hospital and nobody had thought to warn them that Eliot might find the motion of the car nauseating in a way that had never bothered him before. He looked awful and Sophie just wanted to get him to his room where he could lie down and rest until he felt a little better and then they could deal with whatever else needed dealing with.

He'd sighed seemingly resigned and at her light touch to his back had begun moving again and she'd led him to the guest room and seen him settle in, agreeing with her that perhaps he did need to lie down and rest.

Things were easier when he got up later that day. He joined her in the kitchen and they worked quietly together preparing something to eat. She tried to stand back and leave him to work at his own pace but found herself casting anxious glances in his direction from time to time, worried that his hand would slip and he would cut himself with the knife or that he would burn himself on the hot stove. She did her utmost to keep her observations discreet and it wasn't too long before they were both sitting down to a meal unscathed.

"This is lovely," she said, "You've certainly got a flair for cooking." Her smile was wide and he looked a little flushed, she wasn't sure whether it was from the praise or left over from the heat in the kitchen.

She'd discovered yet again, that there was more to Eliot than she'd thought when she had first realized that she had lost the chance to win Nathan to him.

* * *

><p>Nathan was furious now. He'd got to the hospital earlier than usual, it was still official visiting hours and he wanted to speak to Eliot. He anxiously made his way up to Eliot's room, sober. Fuck, he had so much he needed to say, so many things that he needed to figure out and he was hoping to convince Sophie to leave early so that he and Eliot could do that. The prospect of finally talking to Eliot, <em>really<em> talking to him openly and honestly was twisting his stomach up to the point of making him want to be sick. It had been a difficult day, he had determinedly not had a drink, adamant with himself that this conversation would be held with him sober but the urge to bolster his courage had nagged all day, twisted and torn at his insides.

So he'd got there and Eliot's room had been empty, nothing in there to signify that Eliot had ever been there at all. All the little things that had accumulated over the intervening weeks that showed that Parker, Hardison and Sophie had been visiting were gone. Nothing, just a bare hospital room with bed and chair and made ready for the next patient.

Nathan stalked over to the nurses' station to demand answers only to get the explanation that he'd gone home earlier that day. Now here he was outside Eliot's apartment to see it still plunged in darkness. Seeing someone leaving the building, he managed to slip in and up the stairs, where he'd started out knocking on the door. When he got no answer, he'd banged harder, determined to wake Eliot so that he could check on him.

What kind of hospital let someone like Eliot with those kind of injuries go home on his own. Even if he had been improving there was no way he was ready to be abandoned alone yet. He fished his cell phone from his pocket, calling Parker and demanding she come to Eliot's with her lockpicks. She turned up twenty minutes later, with a confused look on her face and Hardison behind her.

One arm protectively round her shoulders, Hardison had demanded to know what Nathan thought he was doing. They'd both look disgusted with him when he'd said he was worried about Eliot being on his own, but it was Parker who'd actually said that Eliot wasn't there. Hardison had saved his energy to dissect how Nathan was a failure, that if he'd been there when he was needed, visited the hospital at all then he would have known that Eliot was at Sophie's where she was looking after him.

The urge to demand to know why no one had told him was only barely contained as his rational mind told him that he'd neither shown an interest in front of anyone else nor given them an opportunity to tell him by being available and around. Eliot had warned him months ago that he was in danger of losing them all and right now it looked like he was right.

"He's okay then?" he asked subdued.

"He's getting better all the time," Parker said, looking at Hardison for confirmation.

"I'm glad," Nathan's voice caught on the words and he looked away from them both hoping to hide the emotions within.

"Yeah," Hardison agreed. "Better than the docs said was possible . . . and you know Eliot, he's still pushing for more. He doesn't give up, not like some people. I figure there's no reason for you to be breaking into his apartment now, is there? Parker and I will be leaving then." Hardison rested a hand in the small of Parker's back guiding her back towards the elevator.

"So we're not breaking in then?" Nathan heard her ask as they walked away. He heard the soft rumble of Hardison no doubt explaining to her that they weren't breaking in because Nathan was an asshole or something to that effect. He sighed and leaned back against the wall beside the door, wondering what he should do next, admit defeat or actually try to take some positive action. Hell, he had no idea whether Eliot remembered him let alone wanted to see him or would give him the time of day.

* * *

><p>Sophie and Eliot settled into a routine over the next few days. She would rise at her usual time, and do her own thing until he woke. The medications he was still taking seemed to be leaving him to sleep late. She'd heard him talk of only sleeping ninety minutes a night in the past and wondered if that had ever been true. She held back on mentioning it though, thinking that he certainly seemed to look in need of rest. He still didn't seem to look well-rested and she wondered whether she should encourage him to mention it to his doctor on his next check-up visit. She didn't think she'd have that much luck convincing him, one thing that was just as it had been before was his stubbornness.<p>

If he woke early, he would do his morning routine of exercises before joining her for breakfast. She'd seen him work on them determinedly. Each morning she would listen out for the sounds of him moving, watching the time cautiously as he tended to lose track of time and just keep going and keep going, only stopping if she intervened or if exhaustion hit. She wasn't sure if it was deliberate on his part, a determination to push himself to his limits to improve or if he genuinely didn't notice the passage of time. If he hadn't woken by nine-thirty, she would knock on his door and go in to wake him, knowing that he needed to eat before he could take the day's painkillers and anti-inflammatories.

She dreaded the thought of him being in too much pain to face the day or to be able to do the few things he would plan for each day.

Depending on how long he'd spent on his exercises in the morning, they would rest for a while after clearing up the breakfast dishes and then go out for a gentle walk around the neighborhood. They would wander in and out of the local stores buying fresh food that either she thought would be good to improve his diet or anything that from time to time caught his attention as something he could use to cook for her. Some days he seemed too distracted to even be aware of which store they were in and at times like that their conversation was stilted to non-existent.

There were times when Sophie felt like it was all so much like hard work that she wondered why she had let herself be caught up in looking after him, why she hadn't just moved on. If Nathan hadn't even bothered to stick around, then why on earth had she?

Then she would remember that if it weren't for Eliot, she would be the one fighting to recover like that and, like Eliot, there probably wasn't anyone who would have stuck around to look after her. She would look across and all the small sacrifices she was making faded to nothing.

* * *

><p>Nathan spent two days weighing up his options, trying to figure out whether he was better just to admit defeat, admit that he'd lost out and it was his own fault and if Eliot was lucky, he wouldn't remember him and the hurt he'd caused at all or whether he should actually try and rebuild first their friendship and then see if it was appropriate to try and rebuild their relationship.<p>

At the end of the two days, he'd come to a decision. He left his home and headed for the Leverage offices. Once there, he took in the cold, abandoned feel to them and figured that what he was about to do was the right thing. He'd get all the paperwork in order, then contact each of the team members, offer them the chance before he took it any further. He sighed.

He moved through to his own office, starting in the filing cabinet and quickly locating the purchase agreements for the office. Flicking through he was reminded of other items that he would need. He'd give Sophie, Hardison and Parker first option on buying the office, if they didn't want it he'd sell it and have Hardison forward the money into Eliot's account. He'd need the money if he wasn't going to be working or if there was some other medical treatment he needed. It was the best thing he could do, the nearest to an apology he'd get to make in all likelihood.

Looking round the office one last time, he took the sheaf of papers with him as he left, locking up behind him.

* * *

><p>Eliot had gone to bed already when the phone rang. Sophie was worried about him, worried about the fact that he always seemed tired, the bags under his eyes only ever seemed to get worse and while he was improving physically, his speech seemed to have hit a stumbling block. He was growing quieter again as if aware that no matter how much he tried he couldn't get past that struggle.<p>

"Hello," she said, wearily.

"Sophie."

One word was all it took for her hackles to rise. "What do you want, Nathan?"

"To talk to you. I've been thinking . . . I know I've acted badly . . . I – I –"

She was shocked, silent for a moment, hoping that he wasn't going to be that much of an asshole as to ask her out now, as if there'd be any possibility of her ever agreeing.

"I want to sell the offices. The company . . . it's gone now, wouldn't be right to carry it on without Eliot. Anyway, the point of what I'm trying to say is that I figured before I put it on the market, I should offer you, Hardison and Parker the opportunity to buy it first, if any of you wanted it."

Relief swept through her that it wasn't what she'd first thought. "I see," was all the answer she gave.

"When the money's gone through, I'll have Hardison transfer it to somewhere Eliot can get at it . . . I'm guessing he won't be able to work and that maybe there'll be stuff he might need in the future, care and stuff."

"He's taken care of all that already," she said bluntly. "He was prepared."

"Yeah . . . I guessed he might be, but even so . . . it's there . . . just in case he should ever need it," Nathan's voice sounded regretful.

The regret just fueled her anger even more. "You know something, Nathan. What would count for more than you throwing money at him would be you actually showing your face! If you'd actually visited him while he was in hospital –" When he started to interrupt, she cut him off, "Don't tell me you visited! Going at night – DRUNK – doesn't count! Going when you knew he'd be asleep and you wouldn't have to face up to the way you've been treating him counts for shit, Nathan!"

The cursing drew a shocked gasp from Nathan as he realized how his actions would seem to her, even more callous than he'd come to think of them himself. "Soph, it wasn't like that . . ."

"Don't Soph me! We aren't friends any more, Nathan, not after this. There's a lot of things I can forgive, Nathan . . . and I know I've not led a blameless life, not even always been fair to Eliot, but I never claimed to love him and then walked out on him."

"I – it – you don't understand," Nathan stammered.

"Don't I? You were scared, scared of committing, then scared of losing him like you lost Sam. Did I miss something?"

Nathan didn't answer. She sighed, "Money isn't the answer, Nathan. It won't assuage your guilt, if that's what you're hoping. You'd be better to face up to him."

"Does he . . . does he remember me?"

"Yeah, a bit . . . Nate," her voice softened, "Nate, he remembers a lot of stuff now. Not the day of the accident, probably not the days before and after either according to the doctor, but then he's astounded them more than once with how well he's done. He's more than surpassed what they thought he was going to be able to do."

"Is he Eliot?" She wondered what his expression was as she heard the pain in his voice.

"I can't answer that, Nate. It's not that simple . . . yes, he's Eliot, but not the same as he was before. Will he ever be that Eliot again? I don't know. He's gaining ground all the time, but no one knows how much more he'll achieve. I just . . ." she cut herself off, refusing to tell Nathan her worries.

"Is he there tonight?"

"Where else would he be, Nathan? Look . . . I don't know what you're trying to achieve now with this. I've told you what I think of what you're doing. I don't know why we're still even talking, there's nothing more to be said. Goodnight, Nathan."

"Sophie! Don't . . . don't hang up, please . . . please, don't hang up yet. . . just . . ." She could hear the desperate note to his voice and held the phone waiting. "Sophie . . . I – I fucked it all up with him and then . . . I didn't know what to do and when I went to see him, he just looked at me as if he'd never seen me before and he never said anything, not a word and I . . . I thought maybe . . . maybe it's better for him, better if he doesn't remember how I treated him, doesn't remember how I let things get so bad between us . . . but I miss him, Soph, I really miss him."

"All this time, Nathan . . . it's taken you all this time to come to that conclusion or just to come up with that excuse. You might be right about him being better off without you, but in truth, he does remember you and he does remember how bad it got. It might do him good to hear you say that you were in the wrong, but then who knows whether he'd believe that. He certainly doesn't seem to believe me when I tell him you were the fool, you were the one treating him badly and that he didn't deserve it. Turns out Eliot didn't have quite the high opinion of himself I always thought he did."

"Can – can I come and see him?" Nathan's question was tentative.

"Depends . . . Nathan, this isn't a game you can play. He's not a toy to manipulate and right now he's . . . I don't know whether this is a good idea or not, Nathan. Call me tomorrow, let me think about it." She hung up without giving him time to say anything more.

She checked the apartment for one last time, turning the lights out as she went. She paused at Eliot's door, opening to look in. The dim light from the hallway behind her cast the room in shadows, but threw enough light onto the bed for her to see his features twisted in pain, fists clenched, sweat beading on his forehead.

She moved forward instantly, wondering why he hadn't moved or, if he couldn't move, he could at least have called her. Reaching his side, she realized he wasn't awake, the pain etched in his features possibly just a figment of his imagination. She reached a hand forward, resting it on his brow as she spoke, "Eliot, Eliot, sweetheart. You're okay, you're here safe." She watched and kept up her soothing words as she saw first his fists and then the rest of his body relax before he finally slipped deeper into a dreamless sleep. She stayed a while longer, just watching and waiting to see if he would stir again. When he didn't, she finally stood and made her own way to bed.

* * *

><p>Nathan paced his apartment for most of the night. The urge to retreat into a bottle was almost more than he could withstand, but determination to convince Sophie, to try and put right at least some of the mistakes that he had made meant that each time he reached for the bottle, he just barely resisted the temptation.<p>

He didn't know how he could convince her that he should be given the chance, didn't really think he could come up with anything that he himself would believe in her position. The more time passed, the more he believed that he needed to see Eliot, needed to at least try to convince him that an apology for his behavior could be believed, even if they weren't going to be able to move forward.

Nathan wasn't really sure what he wanted out of any meeting. He didn't know if he would be able to accept this new Eliot, if he would be able to deal with an Eliot who was less than the man he'd always known him to be.


	5. First Steps Beyond Chapter 3

**Finding A New Road**

**Part Two - First Steps Beyond**

** Chapter Three**

Eliot was awake and sitting in front of the TV when Sophie got up in the morning. He looked exhausted and when she asked him what he wanted for breakfast, she didn't get a response. She crossed the room and bent down alongside him, "Eliot?" His eyes met hers slowly and he blinked a couple of times before seeming to fully register her presence.

"S-S-Sophie." He grimaced at the struggle to get the words out and she took his hand, stroking it softly.

"You okay, sweetheart?" He nodded, the movement small as if he didn't really want to jar any part of his body. "I was going to make breakfast, Eliot," her voice was soft, soothing and slow, giving him time to register the words and try to make sense of them. "What would you like to eat this morning?"

He shifted, starting to push himself upright, before she could catch at his arm and try to keep him in his seat. "H-house," he said. "N-no . . . help you." He stood and she grasped at his arm as his head swam and he reached for the back of the chair.

"Eliot!" Ignoring her, he pushed himself away from the chair. She kept hold of him as he made his way awkwardly to the kitchen. She guided him to a chair and reluctantly, he let her help him lower himself down into the seat. "You can help from there," she said. She walked to the fridge, getting out eggs and a few other ingredients. She cracked the eggs into a bowl and handed them over to Eliot with a whisk, turning back to start preparing the other ingredients and heat the pan ready to cook them an omelet each.

She tried to focus on her task, but couldn't fail to hear the uneven whisking behind her. It wouldn't matter, wouldn't make any difference to the final product, but it was another sign that today was not a good day for Eliot and she just quietly hoped that he wouldn't spill the contents of the bowl, because she knew that would make things even harder for him. Accepting his limitations had never been something that Eliot was good at and now more than ever before it seemed to knock his confidence when he struggled with something that he'd been able to manage a day or two previously.

She turned round moments later, heart breaking at the determined concentration Eliot was having to put in to keep the bowl steady while he whisked. "Done then?" she said with forced cheerfulness, reaching for the bowl that he seemed relieved to hand over. "Thanks."

Once breakfast was served, Sophie decided to broach the subject of Nathan. "Eliot, Nathan called last night." He tilted his head to show he was listening, but made no attempt to say anything. "He wants to sell the office . . . he was talking about giving the money to you, you know, to help with anything you needed."

"D-don't n-n-nag. . . never . . . n-need. Don't need!" he gritted out the words angrily. "H-have . . . have." He finished with a shake of his head, as if it were too much effort to try and finish what he really wanted to say. He scrubbed a hand across his forehead as if he had a headache.

Sophie reached out to catch his hand as it dropped back to the table. "Eliot, are you okay? Do you need . . .?"

He waved his other hand as if to deny her need for concern, "F-fine."

"I'll get your pills," she said, concerned. "Try and eat some more, please, Eliot." She poured them both a glass of juice while she was standing and setting them down on the table, she turned back to fetch the pills he normally took in the morning. She eyed them warily and picked up both his usual painkillers and the stronger ones that the doctor had given for when things were more difficult. She brought them both back to the table with her. He was picking at the food on his plate, disinterested. "Eliot, I've got them here. You ready for them?" He nodded. "Do you want the stronger ones today? It might help with your headache."

His initial reluctance seemed to fade when she mentioned his headache and he gave a small nod. She amended her plans for the day, knowing that he wouldn't be up to going out if he'd been willing to take the stronger pills so early in the day. Maybe later in the afternoon they could go for their planned walk, but for now, she decided, it would be better for him to rest a while.

He pushed the omelet pieces round on his plate listlessly for a few more minutes, until she stopped him. "Don't, Eliot, it's okay. We'll get something later, why don't you rest for a while?" She stood up and moved to his side, but he pushed himself to his feet slowly and holding on to the chair and the table until he was sure he'd got his balance, he made his own way back to the couch. She brought him a drink and encouraged him to lay back and rest, laying a hand gently on his forehead as if she could draw some of the pain away for him. He closed his eyes and she used her free hand to pull the blanket from the back of the couch down over him, waiting for his body to lose some of the tight tension before standing and heading back to the kitchen to clear up.

When she came back in a short while later, Eliot was still lying quietly, eyes half mast as he watched a cooking program on the TV. She was sure he'd have something to say about it if he were feeling better, whether it would be to take notes of something he'd like to try later or disgust at some glaring faux-pas, but he just lay as listlessly as he'd done everything that morning. She wondered if she could convince him to close his eyes for long enough to fall asleep in the hope that proper rest would ease the pain and give the pills he'd taken earlier a chance to work.

She sat down and reached for the book she'd been reading the day before, surprised when he shifted position enough for his eyes to settle on her. "S-Soph'," he started and she smiled waiting to hear what he wanted to say. "N-nathan?" He swallowed anxiously, then tried again, "Nathan talk j-just money?" She could see the strain it had put on him to come up with that much of a sentence. Every word right even if the grammar wasn't. A half-thought crossed her mind that he'd probably spent the last five minutes while she'd been clearing up in the kitchen practicing it over and over. She had no intention of sticking to her usual insistence for correct sentences or as near as he could manage, because she knew that had taken more effort than it should, he'd had to try hard and persist to get that much out.

"No, he talked about some other things too. He told me he'd been to see you at the hospital, came to see you a few times but you were asleep. He wondered how you were doing, whether he could visit you sometime?"

"W-water . . . white . . . Why?"

"I don't know. I think he's sorry he's not been here enough. I think he's worried about you. He says he misses you."

She watched as Eliot frowned, saw as he seemed to be trying to work something out before saying quietly, "Before – before we w-were tomor-to-together but he – he . . . I not . . ." He frowned deeper as he fell silent, then waved a hand as if discarding what he'd been trying to say.

Sophie moved closer, sitting alongside him and catching his hand as she tried to figure out what to say. "You were together before in a way. I think perhaps you showed more commitment than he did and the two of you were," she sighed, hoping she was saying the right thing, "the two of you were having problems. Then you got hurt and it was hard for you both. I don't know if you remember Nathan had a son . . ."

Eliot gave a slow nod, "Ssam, he d-died."

"Yes, he did and that makes it quite hard for Nathan to deal with hospitals. Then he came to see you and you didn't know him and I think he didn't know what to do and so he did the wrong thing, he left and only came to visit when he knew you'd be asleep. But I think he's realized that what he's done was wrong and he wants to put it right again."

Eliot shrugged, "What want from me? N-no good."

"I don't know what he wants, Eliot, or what he expects to find, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. You've done amazing things and you mustn't think that you haven't." Watching as he began to rub at his temple again, she smoothed his hair away from his face. "Why don't you rest for now? You look very tired and it might help your head." He obediently closed his eyes, but judging by how tense he still was, she doubted he would be falling asleep any time soon.

She stood closing the curtain to block some of the daylight and turning on some soft music in the hope it would help him to relax.

* * *

><p>It had been a difficult morning and although he'd tried to rest as Sophie had advised, Eliot just hadn't been able to fall asleep. His mind was too full and he couldn't make sense of any of it. He knew he was worrying Sophie but no matter how he tried he couldn't put her mind at ease while he couldn't string a sentence together and when he couldn't hide the pain he was in.<p>

He was trying to think back, trying to remember just what had happened between Nathan and himself before his accident. He had vague recollections of feeling vulnerable, out of his depth and like he was in the wrong place, but he couldn't remember arguments, he couldn't remember why or when it all went wrong.

He had a flickering memory of Nathan drinking and wondered if that had played a part in his treatment of the other man; had he been insensitive to the other man's loss, to Nathan's difficulties in overcoming the death of his son. Perhaps he'd been unsympathetic in dealing with Nathan's issues of sexuality, perhaps if he'd been married with a child then Eliot had been wrong to expect him to be ready for a relationship between the two of them.

He stood up and moved across the apartment toward the window, stumbling and barely stopping himself from falling against the elegant table Sophie had near the wall and knocking several no doubt priceless statuettes flying. He paused, holding his breath as he tried to steady himself before moving forward again, finally reaching the window and leaning against it to look at the world outside.

* * *

><p>Sophie watched from the kitchen doorway, knowing he hadn't realized she was there. She saw him stumble and held her breath anxiously. She wished he'd just settle down and rest, sure that his restlessness wasn't helping overcome either his tiredness or his pain.<p>

He never seemed able to just give things time, take things easy. It was hard to see the stress he put himself under constantly to improve. She didn't blame him, thought it was only that gritty determination that had got him this far. He counted on himself more than anyone else. It made her wonder whether talking about Nathan this morning had actually been a mistake. She was fairly confident that he'd followed all that she told him that morning even though he'd been struggling with being able to verbalize his own thoughts and questions.

It made her want to question him, to poke and pry and find out what he was thinking, what he remembered about his relationship with Nathan from before. She knew Nathan would be calling her back later that day, probably the evening she guessed and he'd want answers, he'd want to push forward, but it wasn't that simple for her. She couldn't just ask Eliot if he wanted to see Nathan and expect a straight answer.

There was, on top of the possibility that Eliot wouldn't remember enough about before, the added possibility that he'd do something just because he thought it was what everyone else would want him to do. She wondered if he'd been like that before, so laid back in letting other people have their way. She tended to think not, given his propensity for growling at both Hardison and Parker during their planning meetings but then she thought again and tried to think of a time when he'd really been the one to call the shots and she couldn't actually put her finger on a time when he ever had been, not even during the job with the Martins. Although he'd been the one to bring the job to Nate, he'd still accepted the role Nate had given him, he'd still followed someone else's instructions and orders throughout, no matter how he felt about it.

"Eliot?" she called softly, not surprised when he didn't answer. She called again as she got closer, saw him shudder before turning to look at her. "How are you feeling now, sweetheart?"

"No," he answered then sighed and she could see him trying to frame an answer.

"Not good? Why don't we get you sitting down again for a while?" she asked, holding out her arm as an offer of support back to the couch, when she saw the white knuckled grip he'd got on the nearby chair. Stubborn determination was an understatement for the willpower it must have been taking to keep him on his feet. She wondered if she'd be better to get him to at least rest sitting on the dining chair for a few minutes before he made his way back to the couch.

"M-mmmaybe mmmore pills," he slurred the words out with difficulty and she was surprised. It was the first time he'd admitted to being in more pain than he could manage since leaving the hospital, even then the times had been few and far between. The doctor had indicated some of the other signs to look for so that she could try to convince him when the need arose as they had done in the hospital. She hated to think how much pain he must be in to actually make the decision himself that he needed an extra dose.

"As soon as you're sitting down, I'll get them," she agreed.

* * *

><p>Sophie had sat quietly alongside Eliot after she'd brought him another round of painkillers, hoping that this time they might at least have enough of an effect to help him relax a little. She was relieved when in fact he slipped quickly into sleep and although he did not seem to completely relax, she could see as the deeply set frown on his brow eased. She reached for the throw and brought it down gently over him again, unable to resist brushing her fingers through his hair.<p>

He'd been asleep for about ten minutes when there was an unexpected but insistent knock at the door. She hurried through the apartment to answer it, already prepared to scold the visitor for their unwanted noise.

Throwing back the door angrily, she was rendered speechless when she saw Nathan standing there. "Sophie," he greeted. "I – I know I was supposed to be calling . . . that we hadn't agreed to me visiting but I – I couldn't take the risk of you saying no. I need to see him, to apologize even if he won't accept it. I know I – I was in the wrong in so many ways and I know that it's probably too late to try and fix it but I have to do something."

She could hear the urgency and sincerity in his words. "Come into the kitchen . . . quietly and we'll talk. He's . . . resting," she said.

She waited until he stepped inside to close the door and then led the way through the apartment to the kitchen pausing to see his expression soften as he looked over the back of the couch at the view of Eliot asleep. She wondered for a moment if he'd ever looked at Eliot like that before the accident, if he ever really knew the real Eliot at all.

When they both made it to the kitchen, she gestured him to a chair, pushing the door closed so as not to disturb Eliot and then moved to the cupboard. "Drink?" she asked.

"Coffee would be great, thanks," came the unexpected reply and when her surprise showed on her face, he added, "I'm not drinking right now. Trying not to drink anyway. . . It's been a few days, saw the doctor . . . can't promise anything but . . . I guess what I'm trying to say is I am trying to fix things, this . . . me."

She nodded, moving back to the coffee machine. "That's good, Nathan. . . I – I hope it . . . I hope it works out for you." She meant it; she hoped that no matter what happened between Eliot and Nathan or Nathan and the team that this effort wasn't wasted, that he managed to get himself fixed.

"So –" he let the word hang for a few moments, then sighed. "How is he?"

She didn't turn round, gave herself a little longer to try and work out what to say, not sure whether she wanted Eliot to wake up and deal with this himself or whether she could actually handle it for him. When she couldn't delay with the coffee any longer, she turned and carried the two cups to the table settling one in front of Nathan and sitting down. She started to stand again a moment later, "Do you, uhm, do you want something to eat?"

"No, thanks. I guess I shouldn't have just come round but I figured I'd put off dealing with this for too long already and that if I was going to make any effort to try and get things straightened out, it was time I got on to it. It wasn't really fair of me to do that to you. Guess I hadn't really thought it out properly."

She waved his concern away airily, then sighed, ran a hand over her face and looked him in the eye. "I don't know what to tell you, Nathan . . . If you're looking for the old Eliot, well, a lot of the time he doesn't exist."

"I'm not 'looking' for anyone or anything but the truth. I'm trying to have no expectations. He – he nearly died and I handled it badly and ran away. I know that now. But he hasn't died and he's been released from hospital which implies that some things must be improving, but I don't know . . . I don't know anything and that is my fault and I want to try and put some of it right. All of it right if I can, but . . ."

She nodded and he fell silent. She looked down at the table, let her finger trace the grain of the wood. "He's been doing really well. The hospital were really pleased with his progress, he's achieved so much more than they thought would ever be possible."

"There's a but in there somewhere," Nathan prompted when she paused.

She nodded, "He has good days and bad. Today's . . . today is a bad day, maybe not as bad as it can get, but . . . On a good day, he can do a lot of stuff for himself, we chat, cook, go out for a walk. He does his exercises and yeah, things are fine . . . I mean he's quiet, he . . . he has aphasia. You knew that? Where he knows what he wants to say but can't necessarily get the right words to come out. It's frustrating, he works hard to try and overcome it."

Nathan couldn't remember whether he knew about the aphasia or not, wasn't sure how much he had ever taken in of what had been said in the early days after the accident. "I – I was pretty drunk," he said suddenly, then at Sophie's look of confusion, he clarified, "After the accident I was pretty drunk most of the time . . . Couldn't really face the hospital at all without a few drinks and so . . . I'm not sure what I was told and what I wasn't."

She nodded, "The aphasia was really bad at first but it's improved a lot. He's had to learn how to walk again because the damage affected his sense of balance and also of perception. He still has appointments with a physiotherapist and with an occupational therapist who help him either re-learn skills or adapt to take account of them. He's got exercises and things that he works on here too, I don't really know. It's . . . it's something he takes charge of himself. I mean I listen out to make sure he's okay, but he has to have a sense of being in control and being independent."

Nathan nodded. "You said today's not a good day," he prompted her to continue.

"No, it's not. I'm worried about him. He's tired and he's in a lot of pain. He's had to take extra painkillers just a little while ago. It's why he's asleep now but I don't think he's been sleeping very well for the last few days because of the pain. It makes it harder for him to talk as well. Nathan, you have to know this, if you're sticking around until he wakes up, the aphasia is much worse when he's like this, but you mustn't say anything . . . he might not even be willing to talk at all in front of you. Inside he's still a very proud man."

"Would you mind if I hung around, stayed until he woke up and tried to talk to him?" Nathan asked. Seeing the earnestness in his eyes, she nodded acceptance, hoping that she was doing right by both of them.

* * *

><p>Nathan was relieved when Sophie agreed to let him stay and as soon as he could he moved from the kitchen into the lounge where he sat, eyes fixed on Eliot as the younger man slept. He took in the pallor of Eliot's skin, the darkness below his eyes and how thin and vulnerable he now looked. Like Sophie had said this wasn't the Eliot he'd known before, for that Eliot had never looked this vulnerable even in sleep.<p>

He saw the frown and the twitch of his hand first, noticed as Eliot's breathing quickened and there was a small quiet whimper. This he knew. He slipped to his knees beside the couch, one hand lifting to rest on Eliot's forehead, fingers slipping lightly into his hair as he began to murmur softly words that he hoped would soothe and reassure the sleeping man.

Eliot quietened again and so Nathan moved back to his own seat. Eliot's fight to improve his health was clearly being disturbed by his inability to sleep well. Nathan wondered what the answer to that was. He knew that despite their problems and the fact that they had both refused to really acknowledge the nightmares, he had helped Eliot get more sleep when they'd been together, just by holding him close and murmuring reassurances or by holding him until he was able to focus on that alone and relax back into more sleep.

That option wasn't available at the moment. There was no clear way to make sure that Eliot was getting the sleep he needed. Maybe now more than ever before, Eliot really did need to talk about the nightmares, about what he dreamed about in order to exorcise the ghosts of his past.

It wasn't that long before Eliot's breathing quickened again and Nathan knew he'd probably never fully left the nightmare the last time. Nathan knelt close again and began to stroke his hand through Eliot's hair, struck for the first time how much shorter it was than of old. This time Eliot's eyes snapped open, wide with sudden unhidden fear, that didn't diminish when he saw Nathan and for an instant Nathan was hurt at the thought that Eliot still didn't remember him.

"Sssh," Nathan soothed, trying to clamp down on his own hurt. "It's okay, Eliot, you're safe at Sophie's." Eliot's eyes flicked past him, taking in his surroundings. Nathan wondered whether he should call Sophie, if Eliot needed to see her as well, but the fear began to recede and Eliot calmed down, although he began to struggle to sit up. Nathan slipped an arm below him to help and managed to pull him swiftly upright.

Eliot's expression changed again, this time to one of pain and he looked pale and nauseous. Sophie appeared just then at the door and with a brief but clear appraisal she took a step away toward the bathroom, returning moments later with a bowl which she set down beside Eliot. "Is it passing, sweetheart? You need to take your time, not try to move too quickly," she said gently, her hand slipping to the back of his neck and rubbing the tight muscles there for a few seconds.

As Nathan watched, he saw Eliot gradually settle, but knew that the brief contact from Sophie had not been enough to get rid of the underlying tension. "S-s-sorry," Eliot said softly, so quiet that it could have got lost if they weren't both focused on him.

Nathan knew that the headspin was his fault; he'd thought he'd be helping by speeding up Eliot's attempt to sit up, but clearly this was the result of his help. "It was my fault. Sorry, Eliot, I didn't realize you needed to move slower."

Eliot's hand waved away his apology but the younger man wasn't looking in Nathan's direction. Sophie was still balanced on the arm of the couch, her hand still resting on Eliot's back although it wasn't moving, nothing more than a warm reminder of her presence. "Eliot, Nathan came to visit. He wanted to spend a bit of time with you. If it's okay, I'll go and do a little shopping and then I'll come back and make some lunch."

Nathan was surprised by what she was suggesting; it was a lot more than he'd expected her to allow. Eliot gave a small nod of acceptance before leaning back wearily, eyes flicking to Nathan and away again. Eliot looked up at her and gave a sigh, lifting one hand to rub at the edge of his eye. "You still look tired," she said to him. "Are you feeling any better than before?"

"F – fish," he winced at the wrong word, "Ffinger. Ffffine. H-he kn-knnnow?" Nathan was surprised at how much of struggle speaking seemed to be. Despite what Sophie had said before, he'd never imagined this.

"Yes sweetheart, I told him. I told him you have aphasia and I told him speaking can be difficult . . . he'll give you time and he'll try and help. Now he's going to get you a drink, while I get ready to go out. I promise I won't be too long. So do you want water or juice?"

"Jjjuice, please," he looked at Nathan as he answered and Nathan gave a smile in return as he stood and headed for the kitchen fridge. A glance back over his shoulder saw Sophie giving Eliot a quick reassurance before she stood and followed him.

She paused in the kitchen door, "Nathan . . . be gentle, okay. Don't expect too much and if there's a problem, call me. I won't be far away but I'm worried about him, Nathan, he's not had a day this bad in a while. It makes his speech a lot worse and . . ." she pushed the door closed for an instant, "he goes quiet, silent . . . Don't take it that he's not listening or that's he's being negative. You can see the effort it's taking. Sometimes it takes him that much effort to even understand what he's being asked or told, let alone be able to frame the answer. He's getting better at letting me know when it's hard like that but he hides it more with other people, and tries to completely pretend with strangers."

"Are you saying I'm a stranger or just other people?"

She sighed, "He knows who you are if that's what you mean. I wouldn't be going out if he didn't, but which of his categories you fit into is a different matter entirely. One for you to sort out, you need to earn your place in his life again, Nathan."

She picked up her purse and turned heading for the door, calling to Eliot as she went, "See you soon, Eliot. I won't be long."

Nathan made his way back to Eliot setting a glass of juice down on the table in front of him and one in front of himself. Eliot looked surprised and said, "Wh-wh-whiskers?" grimacing as soon as he realized it wasn't what he'd wanted to say.

Nathan shook his head and gave a wry smile, "Nah, Eliot. Thanks all the same, but I'm sober and trying to stay that way." At Eliot's slightly surprised look, he went on, "It's something I should have fixed a long time ago, El. One of a number of things I've messed up on. I don't know why you put up with me for so long, but I'm sorry. Too late really, but I figure it's still better than never . . . or at least I hope it is."

"Ssssorry? Wwwwhine? Wet?" He grunted in displeasure, "Ffffuck!" He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before trying again. "Wwwhy?" he managed with difficulty.

"Because I fucked up over and over again. Because I treated you badly and I never meant to hurt you like I did . . . El . . ." He stood up and moved closer, sitting down alongside Eliot. "El, I was a mess, still am really but . . . I didn't know, didn't think about what I was doing to you." Eliot shrugged and Nathan sighed. "No, El, please look at me. I was wrong and no matter what you think that's the reality. I could have . . . should have handled it all better and then you got hurt and I – I was even more of an idiot. I left you to face all this alone because I couldn't face losing you."

"Nnnot want mmmme."

"It wasn't like that. It wasn't that I didn't want you, it was that I didn't want to admit to feeling like that and I didn't want to feel anything for you because then you could hurt me and then . . . then you got hurt and you were just lying there unconscious and there was so much blood and I couldn't care because if I did, I'd have – I'd have . . . . I couldn't sit back and watch you die, like I had to do with Sam. I thought if I didn't care it wouldn't hurt but it did anyway. Then . . . then I knew I'd hurt you and if I wanted to do anything about it I'd have to admit that, tell you, face up to what I'd done and I couldn't . . . I wasn't ready but now I am. I'm sorry, El, I'm sorry and I want to put everything between us right if you'll let me."

"Nnnno!" The word was definite. "Nnno, c-car, ccastle." Eliot thumped his hand down angrily on the arm of the couch while his other hand clenched against his thigh. Nathan caught the hand near him in his own, swept his thumb back and forth over the back of Eliot's hand. Eliot shook his head and tried to pull his hand away only for Nathan to tighten his grip. "C-ccan't. I-I ggood not."

Eliot twisted, refusing to make eye contact and Nathan began to realize just how much Eliot had been hurt emotionally. "Was bbbefore leaving," Eliot said, meaning clear as Nathan was reminded of the boxes in Eliot's apartment and his own efforts to convince Eliot to take on that final job. Nathan pulled Eliot closer.

"You're so tired, Eliot. Perhaps you should sleep now. . . We can talk more later."

Eliot's rage was immediately apparent as he pushed himself clear of Nathan, almost forcing the other man off the couch and then stood. He'd taken three steps before he stumbled with a rush of disorientation. Nathan moved quickly to catch him, easing him back to the couch. "Fuck! I'm sorry, Eliot, I'm sorry," he pleaded. He'd already reached for the bowl as he listened to Eliot's uneven breathing, took in his pale features and sweating brow.

"Lllleave me 'lllong."

Nathan knew he couldn't go anywhere, but also that he needed to ensure that he reacted to ease Eliot's distress, rather than risking exacerbating it further.

"I'm not going anywhere, but if it makes you feel better, I'll sit over here," he said indicating the chair he'd been on before. "Sophie would gut me slowly if I left before she came back." He saw Eliot's features soften a fraction at the comment, watched as Eliot let himself lean back against the back of the couch and close his eyes, careful almost meditative style breathing as if to try and calm his whole being down.

"Why hhhhere?" Eliot broke the silence.

"To try and make right the damage I caused to our friendship."

Eliot opened his eyes and glared for a moment. "Ssttamp . . .Sstop – Sstupid."

Nathan barely contained the urge to move back over to Eliot's side as he'd seen the gesture which accompanied the word 'stupid' making it clear that Eliot was referring to himself. Logically he knew there could be a number of meanings to what Eliot had said : Did he think Eliot was stupid enough to fall for the same thing again? Was he stupid enough to think Eliot would want him back? But he kept coming back to the suspicion that what Eliot meant was that he was stupid and therefore Nathan should not want to be friends. He needed to think quickly, needed to figure out how to go forward. He had no right to expect Eliot to even want friendship, let alone more and while he was filled with something deep and pained as he saw Eliot's struggle now, he didn't know how strong he could be. What did he himself want?

Eliot was wearily rubbing at the back of his neck, but he seemed to be too tired to even keep his hand raised for long before it dropped back to his lap. "Eliot . . . I know things were bad before between us and I know that a lot of that – most, maybe all of it, was my fault . . . I know we can't just pick up and make it right. I don't know if we'd even want that like you said, but I would like us to be friends again. Just friends. That I could visit and we could hang out, chat and . . ." Eliot started to interrupt when Nathan cut him off again, saying, "Sophie said the aphasia isn't always this bad. That you two can do all kinds of things on your good days. I know it's not always like today."

Eliot's expression looked so broken at his words that he couldn't help but move closer again. "I don't know how you've managed to recover so much, how you've been so strong but you're amazing, Eliot," he whispered as he pulled Eliot closer to him, the younger man letting his head rest against Nathan's shoulder in what Nathan knew was an amazing sign of trust. Nathan brought one hand up to rest gently at the base of Eliot's neck; he could feel the tight play of the muscles there.

He played his fingers softly over each taut line, trying to work out how to relieve the tension, gave a few tentative squeezes and waited for a response from Eliot. He was struck by an idea. Eliot used to get so tense and tight after a job that he had spent more than one of their evenings together carefully massaging out the strains.

Admittedly in the past it had almost always been with sex as the ultimate goal, but there was no reason why he couldn't be a better man now and actually do it with the goal of Eliot not being in so much pain or Eliot being relaxed enough to sleep. He wanted to be the man's friend. He needed to start somewhere and this was something he knew how to do. He was nervous, not sure what to expect as he made the offer, unsurprised when Eliot tried to refuse but then as he persisted Eliot's refusals began to fade and he smiled to himself at overcoming the first hurdle.

So it came as a surprise when Eliot suddenly forced out a determined "No!" It had him shocked enough to back off and really look at Eliot, see the fear and the longing and the overwhelming pain and it was the look of longing that meant Nathan was not going to just give up. It needed to be unpicked, each of Eliot's objections needed to be unraveled and laid to one side and what better time to start?

Nathan blindly assumed that Eliot's refusal came from his memories of how massages had always ended in the past between them; hardly what one could term as 'friendly ground'. It was easy for Nathan to start to harp on about how he was thinking of Eliot and not in any sexual way and how if the muscles relaxed then he'd be in less pain.

He rambled on for a while before really noticing the look of semi-disgust on Eliot's face. He fell quiet, not sure how to overcome that, but Eliot took the step. It was awkward, difficult as the words escaped him again and again and Nathan ended up guessing and trying to fill in the blanks, only to finally realize that Eliot was trying to convey the amount of damage to his back, the fact that Nathan playing at masseur could make things worse. It was admittedly something he hadn't considered, but he was determined and with promises and reassurances to avoid any areas that Eliot indicated, he managed to convince Eliot that he could make things better.

Despite his agreement, Eliot still didn't look convinced, but he accepted Nathan's help to get up slowly and his support on the walk through to his bedroom. He walked slowly, unsteadily and Nathan again wondered if he was doing the right thing. Reaching the bedroom, Nathan guided him to sit down on the bed, watched as Eliot adjusted his position ready to lie down and reached out to stop him. "Are you gonna take off your shirt so I can get at your back?"

Eliot shook his head and started to turn again, stopped by Nathan catching hold of his hands and bending down in front of him. "Tell me where I'm avoiding then," Nathan said solemnly before changing it at Eliot's frown to, "Show me, point whatever . . ."

Eliot swallowed anxiously, then rested a hand behind his back on his lower back, before lifting it up and over his shoulder to indicate the lower outside edge of his shoulder blade. He looked away embarrassed. Nathan reached up for his chin, turning his head back gently, "No, Eliot, don't be like that."

This time when Eliot turned away, Nathan let him go and watched as he tried to settle on his front. It took him longer than Nathan had ever known before, but he watched as Eliot struggled to find a place to lay one arm that wasn't uncomfortable. Knowing that it was the arm on which he'd indicated the shoulder damage, it was a good indication of how severe some of that damage might be.

Once Eliot had been settled for a few moments without further movement, Nathan moved into position himself. He began slowly, keeping his movements deliberately soft as he felt out the tension and listened for any indication from Eliot that he was uncomfortable with where or how Nathan was moving.

Then he moved back up to Eliot's neck, resting his hands firm but still on the base of Eliot's neck, warming it through before beginning to slowly ease the tension. As the tension eased, he moved on, steadily warming and easing, aiming only for the superficial tension, not trying to dig deep enough to work out the knots below because he knew well how much that could hurt before it released and Eliot was in too much pain already to have him deal with that.

He was surprised when he felt Eliot slip into sleep, pleased that he had achieved that much. Cautiously, he climbed off Eliot and settled alongside, flexing his hands and fingers to relieve their stiffness. This was what Eliot needed, good healing sleep. He wondered about contacting the medics in charge of Eliot's care to see about finding someone who could give proper medical deep tissue massages to work out the tension and allow Eliot to relax without running the risk of damaging any of the vulnerable areas.

When Sophie returned, she was surprised and concerned that Eliot was asleep again. "He doesn't normally sleep so often during the day," she said anxiously. "Maybe I should be calling the doctor, maybe this is more than just a bad day."

"I don't think he's been sleeping well, Sophie. He seemed really tired, maybe this is his body trying to catch up on what it needs. Wait and see how he is when he wakes up again."

She sighed, uncertainty clear, as Nathan tried again to convince her. Eventually agreeing, she said she would make some lunch for them all if Nathan wanted to stay. He trailed behind her, knowing there was nothing to be gained by watching Eliot sleep at this point and that talking with Sophie would give him more information, more ammunition with which to start his forward advance in healing the damage he'd caused.


	6. First Steps Beyond Chapter 4

**Finding A New Road**

**Part Two - First Steps Beyond **

**Chapter Four**

Eliot did indeed seem better for the sleep, a little of the tension eased, a little of the balance restored as he walked with more ease from his room to join them for lunch. He ate better than he had at breakfast to Sophie's relief, but was happy to leave the talking to Sophie and Nathan.

They'd finished lunch and Nathan was starting to talk about leaving but maybe visiting again soon if that was okay. Eliot nodded his agreement, although he wasn't really sure if Nathan's suggestion of time was a good one or not, trusting Sophie to keep track of details like that.

His attention shifted again; away from the people in front of him and back to memories of the office, of arrangements for jobs and the like rushing over him as he tried to make sense of everything. Why had he ever thought that he and Nathan would be good together? He looked at how relaxed Nathan and Sophie were now and wondered why he'd ever come between them.

He stood slowly, turning away from them to leave the room without a word, thinking to leave them in peace, but they were both alert to the first of his movements and Sophie was at his side with Nathan blocking the door before he had made it away from the table. It wouldn't have been like that before was the thought that crossed his mind. It didn't leave his mouth though, nothing left his mouth at all.

He was ruining their time again, their second chance. He shuddered as he tried to take control of his body, co-ordinate his limbs to do what he wanted. "Eliot, sweetheart. What is it?" Sophie's voice was insistent, the concern in it clear.

He shook his head, then took a breath and tried to get the words out, "Give-give space you." They were the right words, he knew that, but he hated how it was so hard to get them to make sense so that other people could understand what he wanted to say.

"Space? You need some space, sweetheart? Okay, okay, that's fine. You want the TV on?"

It wasn't what he'd meant and that was frustrating, but worse was the hurt he felt at her words. The memories her voice brought were old, nothing to do with Sophie at all; his mom, his mom before everything went completely to shit when he was a kid. He closed his eyes trying to shut out everything he didn't want to deal with. Instead he felt as two sets of hands closed on him, felt the sudden surge of panic as another set of memories threatened to swoop in on him, ones he kept even more firmly at bay than those early ones of his mother.

His eyes snapped open again, seeing Nathan and Sophie and trying to make sense of it all. His breath quickened, until he focused on Nathan's voice, Nathan's face, "It's okay, Eliot, you're here at Sophie's. It's just us here." He repeated the same words over and over until finally Eliot nodded. He understood; the memories were just that – memories, no reflection of what was happening now. He was tired and it was hard to keep everything in its place, organized and controlled.

He didn't fight the way Nathan lead him to the couch and lowered him down. He didn't fight the way Sophie draped the throw back over him, but he felt as one hand clenched in the wool. "S-sorry," he stammered out. "Mmmmemories."

He was surprised at how easily they both accepted the explanation, neither questioning him further. He felt the guilt surge through him again at how much trouble he was causing, how much of a burden he'd become to poor Sophie.

There was money, he knew that; he'd had money set aside in case he ever needed it. It was time he did something about that. He would need help making the arrangements but maybe, maybe this way Sophie would accept what he was going to do. He would need to find somewhere to live, find someone to help him, paid help to at least make sure he could stay on top of his meds, shopping and cleaning and cooking when things were too bad to manage on his own. Most of all though, he needed to be out of Sophie's way, not ruining her life.

"Eliot! Eliot!" The tap to his cheek finally brought his attention to the noise in the room around him, the voice calling his name. He jerked startled away from the contact. His eyes met Nathan's, confused. "That's right, Eliot, look at me, focus on me."

He blinked, not sure what was going on, where Sophie had gone. He tried to look round, searching for her, hearing her voice in the distance but not being able to make out where she was or what she was saying. Nathan pulled on his hand and he jerked his head back round without finding her. "Just look at me, listen to me for a minute. Do you know where you are?"

He nodded but didn't answer. "Eliot, does your head hurt?" Eliot frowned, a hand reaching up to his head as if expecting to find an injury there. "Does it hurt?" Nathan persisted. Eliot suddenly wasn't sure, it didn't hurt as if he'd bumped it, there were traces of a headache, but thinking was so hard, concentrating was so hard.

He tried to remember what the question was that he was supposed to answer and realized he couldn't. He bit his lip and tried harder to think, frown deepening. Nathan's voice broke through into his consciousness again, "It's okay, Eliot, just try to stay with me. Sophie is calling for help."

Eliot felt his brow furrow with confusion, what was Nathan saying, why did Sophie need help. If Sophie needed help, why were they sitting here? He tried to push himself up but Nathan wouldn't allow him to move. What was going on? Nathan didn't seem to be offering any explanation. He needed to find Sophie, needed to help her. "Nose! Nose!" he pushed Nathan's hands away and tried again to get up and go to look for Sophie, "Saffron helmet." He didn't know what the words were that were coming out of his mouth. Tears glistened in his eyes as his breath shortened and he tried again to say something, more jibberish falling from his lips.

Nathan shifted to sit alongside him, pulling him into the side of his body and trying to calm and reassure him with little effect as Eliot struggled again to stand. He couldn't fight the hold Nathan had on him, the firm grip that kept him in place. He had to keep looking back to see Nathan, needing the reminder that that was who was holding him. He wasn't a captive; he didn't get why Nathan was holding him here, but he wasn't a prisoner.

Sophie sat down on his other side, her face full of concern as she pleaded with him to calm down and be still. She'd been gone before . . . wasn't that why he needed to go, to find her and help her, but here she was fine. He didn't understand, couldn't make sense of it.

He stopped fighting to stand, flopping bonelessly against the back of the couch and bringing his hands up to cover his face. He didn't understand and he didn't know what he could do about it. He could hear Nathan and Sophie talking but their words made no sense at all. He shivered and felt as a hand came to rest against his forehead. He barely contained the urge to pull away and just keep still as her voice washed over him again and again.

* * *

><p>He was hot, too hot, Sophie realized as she rested her palm on his brow and saw him tense. She murmured reassurances in the hope that the tone of her voice would get through to him. She knew he wasn't understanding the words anymore, had been struggling with it most of the day and she wondered if anything since lunch had made any sense at all.<p>

She'd called her doctor, been lucky enough to be able to speak to him right away. He'd advised calling the hospital where Eliot had been treated and still went for his regular checkups and further treatment and then taking Eliot down to them. She'd called the hospital, managed to get through to someone who was willing to talk to her eventually and they'd advised calling an ambulance to take him in and that they would be waiting as soon as he arrived.

She'd questioned the need for an ambulance and whether she and Nate could just bring him in a taxi, but they'd just insisted that an ambulance was safer and that it would also mean the paramedics on board could start to check him and make initial assessments as to the severity of what was happening.

The ambulance was on its way now and she was at Eliot's side with a list of information for the paramedics about the nature of his injury. She wondered how she'd missed the elevated temperature earlier, why he hadn't said anything.

* * *

><p>Nathan, thankfully, had pulled through for her and had driven her to the hospital, when the paramedics had taken Eliot and not allowed her to accompany them. He'd accompanied her into the hospital and hadn't, for once, baulked at the prospect of waiting with her to find out what was happening. She knew it wasn't easy, could feel how tense he was, how he was fighting the urge to leave.<p>

When the doctor finally appeared it was a relief just to have some information, rather than sitting there imagining ever more horrific possibilities. When the explanation began, it was full of reassurances that the problem was relatively minor. It was just a slight bacterial infection, something that one would normally ignore and just get on with life. The difficulty was that due to his injuries, Eliot's body was less able to fight it in the normal way. His immune system had been lowered, but more importantly, the rise in his body temperature had been more sudden due to his brain injury and then because of the increase in temperature his brain had struggled further to function. That had had the effect of making him find communication and coordination even more difficult and had led to the confusion as he'd struggled to make sense of what was happening around him and to separate it from his memories, with those memories becoming increasingly disjointed but more vivid as his brain had reacted to the infection and the temperature changes in his body.

The doctor seemed unfazed by the occurrence, saying that Eliot's condition had now been stabilized, his temperature brought down and antibiotics administered which would fight the infection. He seemed confident that keeping Eliot overnight would allow them to ensure the steady improvement continued and if all was well they would release him in the next couple of days.

He explained that Eliot was sleeping now, but if they wanted to have a quick look in on him before they went home that would be fine and that he would see them tomorrow.

They followed his advice and it wasn't long before they were leaving a sleeping Eliot and heading back to Sophie's.

* * *

><p>Nathan was at the hospital first the following morning, waiting for the doctor to finish his rounds and the nurse in charge to allow him in to see Eliot. As Nathan entered the room, Eliot looked somewhat dejected as he stared at the wall, although as soon as Nathan spoke, the younger man seemed to pull himself together and make an effort to look okay.<p>

The pallor and exhaustion hadn't gone, although when he spoke it seemed to take a little less effort to get the words he needed out. "Nnnate? W – what doing you here?"

He smiled in greeting and settled himself into the chair beside the bed, leaning in to catch Eliot's hand, ignoring the somewhat suspicious look on Eliot's face. "I came to visit, see how you were doing. You look better than you did yesterday, which is a start."

"Sssssorry."

"You don't need to be sorry, Eliot. It wasn't your fault. What did the doctor have to say? Are you allowed home today or is he keeping you in longer?"

"K-keep hheeere. Sleep not good." Eliot swallowed and closed his eyes, breathing deeply as if to try and re-focus his thoughts, "I not am sleeping aaand he keep me here for more sssleep."

"You're not sleeping well? Eliot, how long haven't you been sleeping?"

"Not evan, ever, never. C-can't." The confession clearly made Eliot tense and Nathan moved closer, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Is there anything he can give you to help?" Eliot shook his head but wouldn't meet Nathan's eyes. "Talk to me, El, tell me. You don't have to keep this inside. I'm here."

The door opened and the doctor came in. His expression looked a little surprised at the position he found the two men in, but quickly moved past the shock to come over and talk to Eliot. "Morning, Eliot. I thought we could have a talk this morning. It won't take long if your friend wants to wait outside."

"I'll stay," Nathan said without looking at Eliot.

"I'm sorry, Mr. . . ?" the doctor said. "I don't think it's your position to be making decisions like that. Now while I'm sure you have Eliot's best interests in mind, it's time for you to step outside while Eliot and I talk."

"I'm Eliot's partner, I'll stay."

The doctor couldn't fail to see the surprise on Eliot's face at the words and it only made him more determined to get the stranger out of the room. "Thank you for the offer, but if you don't leave the room now, I will be calling security and you will be leaving the hospital under escort."

Nathan drew himself up as if preparing for a fight, but Eliot cut him short saying, "N-no, go," with a tilt of his head towards the door. He waved a hand, cutting Nathan's objections short and pointed to the door. "L-lleave now."

Nathan subsided and turned abruptly to leave the room. He seemed to falter as he reached the door, turning back to look at Eliot and saying, "I'll just wait outside then, when you want to see me again."

Eliot sighed and nodded wearily. As the door closed behind Nathan, the doctor turned his full attention back to Eliot. "Is everything okay, Eliot? Do you want me to call security and have him removed?"

With a small shake of the head, Eliot said quietly, "Nnno, 's fine."

The doctor accepted Eliot's words, only adding that if he changed his mind he only needed to say. He began to explain what had happened the previous day, offering Eliot an explanation for the suddenness of his deterioration and what to look out for if it should happen again. He waited for Eliot to process the information he'd been given before adding, "Eliot, it's going to be possible for this to happen but you'll come to know in the early stages and we'll be able to act quicker, so it isn't so severe."

"Nnno way t-to ssstop it?" Eliot asked.

"At this point, no. I'm sorry. Eliot, your brain is still healing so . . . it's not beyond the realms of possibility that your body will heal this on its own but as for something we can do . . . not really."

Eliot nodded. He looked away before looking back at where his hands lay in his lap and very quietly, he said, "I – I need sssomething."

The doctor pulled across the chair and sat down beside Eliot and waited. After a couple of false starts, Eliot managed to get out, "I – I neeed some-somewhere to live."

"Eliot? What about Ms Deveraux, Sophie?"

"Sh-she doesn't know, but – but can't sssstay there, for-for . . . foren, forever. Need me place . . . my place . . . own . . . but not own." Eliot looked slightly puzzled as if he couldn't quite explain what he meant.

"Eliot, you want to find somewhere to live on your own? Is that what you're saying to me?" Eliot nodded. "Are you sure about this? You've talked about this with Ms Deveraux?"

"Don't need talk Sophie!" Eliot was frustrated by the implication that he couldn't make a decision without Sophie's agreement. He was grateful for all the help she'd given him, and he was more than aware of his own limitations. "Need find somewhere, somewhere with help!"

"Wow! I guess if you're sure about that. I'll find some options for you, most definitely, but I would still advise you talking this through. I would also suggest that perhaps you and 'Sophie', Ms Deveraux, take some time to consider the options to visit the facilities that are available to see which you like most."

Eliot turned away anger still clear, breathing heavily and trying to get himself back under control. He could hear the doctor moving around the room as if he was busy but also waiting for Eliot to make the next move. Eliot sighed, the final wave of anger ebbing on his out breath. He turned back to see the doctor waiting, head tilted.

"S-s-sorry. J-just . . . staying S-sophie's mmmeant to be short, not l-long time. T-time to mmove soon," Eliot attempted to explain.

The doctor nodded and sat down in the chair alongside Eliot's bed. "Eliot, I didn't mean to imply that this was the wrong choice or that it shouldn't be your decision. My intention was that you take your time to make sure that whatever choice you make is the best one for you, and that sometimes it's better to have close friends help us make those decisions. I will find some brochures for facilities that offer supported housing. I would suggest that you have a look at the brochures, pick a few that interest you most and then perhaps you and Ms Deveraux go and take a look around before making a commitment to any one of them. They will each have different things to offer and it helps to talk over which are most important to you and also which you can manage without."

"Th-thank you," Eliot seemed relieved.

"Now, I figure we're just about finished here for now. Do you want me to send your partner back in?"

"I – I guess so."

* * *

><p>It was a few minutes before Nathan entered the room to find Eliot laid back with his eyes closed and one arm lifted to lie across them as if blocking out even the subdued light. He didn't say anything, just crossed quietly and sat down in the chair beside the bed to wait for Eliot to waken.<p>

Eliot sighed and let his arm drop, "N-nate . . ."

"Yeah, it's me. How are you doing?" Eliot turned his head and Nathan could see the weariness in his eyes. "You okay? You need anything?"

"Nno, j-just tired, 's all." He let his eyes meet Nathan's, trying to fill them with assurance. He couldn't help the surprise when Nathan lifted a hand and brushed his bangs back where Eliot had knocked it down to cover his face, hand resting gently across his forehead for a few extra long seconds.

Eliot felt his heart speed up, hoped it didn't show on the monitor. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm himself down. This meant nothing he tried to remind himself. Nathan didn't want him anymore; he hadn't wanted him before so certainly couldn't want him now. He tried to pull himself to sit more upright, jerking away from Nathan's hand at the same time.

"Eliot, rest," Nathan's voice was a soft rumble. "You don't have to pretend to be okay just because I'm here. You can rest."

Eliot didn't meet his eyes, looked away deliberately. The last thing he needed was for Nate to see and recognize the longing for touch inside him. He had to be stronger than this. It had been easier when Nathan wasn't around to pretend it didn't matter, to believe that he could overcome this and be . . . be fine, but with Nate here, he couldn't deny his weakness, his fallibility. He was useless to the team now.

Realizing that he'd drifted away from Nathan's words, lost in his thoughts, he felt a pain in his lower lip. Reality dawned slowly that the pain was coming from biting his own lip and he released the lip, running his tongue over it to ease the discomfort. It was nothing really, nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Another sensation drew his attention. He turned his head slowly downward, taking in where Nate was holding his hand and passing his thumb back and forth. He pulled his hand away, the movement slow and he couldn't have said whether it was because he didn't want to offend Nathan or because he didn't really want to lose that contact. He wasn't cut out for this. He wasn't made to be with people, never had been really, not even before.

"Y-y-you sh-ould go," he said, looking at Nathan for the first time.

"You're as stubborn as ever," Nathan replied gently. ""Sophie said as much. I'm not going anywhere. I've too much to make up to you. I know – okay, I know, I messed up. I treated you badly and I get it maybe you can't forgive me, maybe you can't trust me again like that, but I have to try. I have to try to at least earn your friendship."

"F-fri-friends?" Eliot clenched his free hand in the bedcovers, frustrated at the difficulty in speaking and at the fact that he couldn't really understand where this was leading. It didn't make sense, any of it. Nathan hadn't wanted him before, the only reason he could want to be friends now was in the hope of getting to Sophie. That was the only thing that could make any sense.

He wouldn't need to bother though, not if Eliot followed through with the move to one of the Assisted Living Facilities. That was the right thing to do, Eliot knew it; it would allow Nathan to drop this charade without the need for guilt or . . .

Eliot felt a hand on his forehead again. It was grounding, bringing him back to the room, to him and Nathan. "Eliot," Nate's voice was soft. "Eliot, lie back for me. Lie down."

"I – I –"

Eliot felt himself being guided back to lie against the pillows, felt the covers being pulled up again before Nathan's hand settled back on his head again, fingers stroking gently. He wanted to turn into the contact, to prolong it, but he couldn't do that. He couldn't.

* * *

><p>Nathan was worried. Eliot's temperature was down, his speech better, but he clearly wasn't really tracking the conversation well and Nathan didn't know why. He could see the internal fight, the clenched fists as Eliot battled something, but he had no idea what.<p>

In Nathan's own experience, Eliot was capable of taking stubborn to previously unrecorded levels. He'd never got to the bottom of where that stubborn streak came from, had spent time pondering the possibilities. Eliot was different to the rest of the team, always had been. Back in the early days of the team, Nathan had watched and seen as the rest of the team reacted to Eliot. He was off-hand, grumpy to the extent of verging on downright rude. He bristled like a hedgehog and the others had responded accordingly. Nathan had observed amused wondering how long it would take the others to see through the mask. He watched and he waited for the others to notice all the little things that Eliot did to make things better for them. It had started with the obvious protection on jobs, extended to him off-handedly prompting changes to how they took care of themselves in defensive situations. Little remarks like "That wouldn't have hurt so much if . . ." or "If you'd just aimed for . . . he wouldn't have come back at you a second time."

Parker had been the one to take on board the tips most willingly, although she hadn't read anything else into it. Sophie had considered it him nagging, just another facet of him being grumpy, while Hardison had just ignored it with comments like, "Well that's what you're there for, isn't it?" Nathan realized now that was when he had first begun to see more of Eliot, enough to want to move beyond the 'just one job' team that they still saw themselves as. He'd begun to think that maybe there was more to each of them, that he could capture their interests, challenge them to be better than they were.

No one had noticed either how, when Eliot began to cook for them all, he knew their favorites, knew how they liked things cooked. Nathan watched, saw the small amount of detectable pride Eliot took in garnering pleased responses from each of them. Yet he still remained gruff and off-hand in their interactions.

Eliot was a mass of contradictions; thoughtful, considerate and protective at the same time as he was brusque, solitary and belligerent. It had taken a little time and effort to see the good hidden beneath the exterior, to appreciate the kind of man the real Eliot Spencer was.

Nathan had kept up the gentle motion of his fingers through Eliot's hair in the hope Eliot would relax, but more than once he'd had to hold him down, insisting that he rest and Eliot had looked at him again and again with confusion as if he'd lost track yet again of what was going on. He'd just pushed Eliot back down again when he came to a decision and moved up to sit on the edge of Eliot's bed directly in front of him.

He saw as Eliot's hand clenched into a fist again, as his eyes squeezed shut and he clearly tried to work something out. Nathan didn't know what to do, he reached again for Eliot's nearer hand, wrapping it in both of his own and trying to get Eliot's attention. "So El, the sun is shining today. . ." There was no response, but Nathan found himself distracted by a movement in the doorway.

It was Parker and she bounced into the room, almost leaping onto the bed on the other side of Eliot. "Eliot! Eliot! I went to Sophie's to see you this morning and you weren't there and she told me you were here . . ." She'd wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his shoulder completely ignoring Nathan.

Nathan felt himself bristle, put it down to annoyance at how she had invaded Eliot's space when the man was clearly unwell. "Parker, I think you should get off the bed now," he said firmly. She ignored him continuing to talk to Eliot without even acknowledging his presence at all.

"Parker," he repeated himself, "I think you should get off the bed now." Not shouting, he wasn't going to shout. He was being perfectly reasonable. It was absolutely inappropriate for her to be climbing on the bed with Eliot. "Get off the bed, Parker," he said again, refusing to accept her complete disregard of not only his instruction but also his presence.

He saw as Eliot's eyes settled on her, a soft smile playing at his lips as she lifted her hand to his hair and said quietly, "Do you want me to do your hair today?"

"Ppparker," the word was quiet but filled with an affection that Nathan hadn't seen before. There was none of the usual gruff rebuff. "Nnnot today."

"What happened?" Parker whispered. "Why did you have to come back here? I thought you were getting better."

Nathan saw as Eliot's free hand wrapped around her, rubbing her back gently. "'S nothing. B-b-better now."

"You're going home today?" she asked, her face dropping when he shook his head in response. She stroked a hand down his face. "You're gonna be okay though?"

Eliot gave her a smile. Nathan felt a surge of jealousy; she was getting more of a reaction from Eliot than he'd had all morning. It wasn't like he could climb on the bed with Eliot, even if Parker weren't here.

"Parker, Eliot isn't well. You need to get off the bed!" he said curtly, barely restraining the urge to actually stand up and pick her up and drop her outside the door.

She glared at him and then turned back to Eliot. "Eliot, why are you letting him hold your hand?" she asked innocently.

Nathan knew it was anything but innocent and felt as his anger grew as Eliot pulled his hand away and rested it on her shoulder instead. "Sssh!" Eliot said. "Dddon't be like that."

"Eliot," she pouted. "Eliot, _he_ didn't come and see you for weeks and weeks and now he's here and holding your hand and he said all those horrible things to you before. Eliot, you don't have to be nice to him." Her expression was open, far too sincere for Nathan's liking.

Eliot looked uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation and Nathan wondered how to direct it that she would back off and let Eliot relax. There was another movement behind them all and Hardison broke the growing silence.

"Parker girl, what are you doing? Cheating on me?" he laughed.

She looked back over her shoulder and grinned at him, patting Eliot on the chest and murmuring, "No, Eliot's like a big teddy bear and I'm just snuggling."

Eliot gave a smile as Hardison flustered and objected, all the while still grinning and laughing as he came over, pulling another chair with him before sitting down on the side nearest Parker. As Parker shifted, Eliot winced and before Nathan could say anything, Hardison leaned over and picked her up off the bed with the words, "A man could get jealous!"

Parker turned, kissed his cheek as she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him before putting her feet down on the floor and almost dancing across to the window and hopping up to sit on the sill and watch over them all.

Nathan wondered what would happen next as silence settled back over the room. "I-it's g-good to see you," Eliot was looking at Hardison and Parker and Nathan felt another surge of jealousy.

"Yeah man, what's with this? I thought we'd cleared out of here for good," Hardison leaned closer, concern clear in his expression.

"N-n-nothing ssserious."

Nathan snorted his disapproval at Eliot's response. Hardison's gaze flitted up and hardened as he glared at Nathan, but it was Parker who spoke, "Did you know Nathan wanted me to break into your apartment for him?"

Nathan looked away, knowing it hadn't been his best moment, then again he had a lot to choose from for the bad, not so much for having done the right thing. He stood up and looked down at Eliot, taking his hand carefully before speaking and waiting until Eliot was looking at him, "I'm going to go for now, but I'm going to come back later and visit again if that's okay?"

Eliot gave a slight nod but didn't try to get any further words out. Nathan laid his hand back down gently before turning away and leaving. He was just outside the door when he heard Parker say, "Huh, why did you let him stay, Eliot? He's an asshole."

"Parker," Hardison's voice was a low warning. "Don't go there, not now."

Nathan sighed as he leaned back against the wall. He hadn't expected the others to be harder on him than Eliot, hadn't really expected them to care at all. None of them had been that concerned about each other before, yet now . . . he couldn't be sure that there wasn't something more between Parker and Hardison . . . Sophie seemed . . . he searched for the right word, attached to Eliot maybe. It wasn't romantic, but it was deeper than it ever had been before.

And he was on the outside, looking in and not even really welcome to do that. Should he even hang around at all? Was he just putting extra stress on them all, on Eliot?

He turned and walked away down the corridor.

* * *

><p>Nathan was sitting outside the hospital soaking up the sunshine while he waited for a cab to show up, so it was just his luck that the first one to pull up at the curb about ten minutes later was dropping off a passenger. He gestured at the back seat and the driver nodded, then Nathan stood back to wait until the person inside had finished paying and climbed out.<p>

He clearly hadn't been paying anywhere near enough attention because when the elegant figure who had climbed out of the cab stood before him, he was surprised to find himself poked in the chest as the reprimand hit him, "Where do you think you're going? Has the Doctor told you to leave and that he needs quiet? Because, Nate, that is the only – The ONLY – reason I can come up with for you being out here trying to get a cab. You promised you weren't going to do this again and already, you're letting him down."

"It's not like that."

"No?" she continued, before turning to the cab and telling the driver that he wasn't needed, no one was leaving. She turned back to Nate, eyes flaring angrily, "I can't wait to hear why it's not like that . . . Well?"

"He's got visitors." Her raised eyebrow was enough to have him continuing. "Parker and Hardison are there and things were tense with me there."

"Tense for who, Nathan? You? Them? Eliot? Which is it? Because from where I'm standing there's only one of those that matter right now and I'm betting that that isn't the one you were considering!"

Nathan didn't think he'd ever seen her so angry, wasn't sure for the first time ever, how to cut her off.

The face slap and accompanying "You Bastard!" was a real shock. There was no pretense in Sophie's words, nothing held back in the way she had hit him; it was all genuine and that really hit home about how big a mistake he was making.

"Soph- Sophie, please, stop and listen," he begged, grabbing hold of her arms when she made to walk away. She took a step back from him, knocked his hands away and folded her arms and stood silently glaring. Nathan swallowed nervously and began to explain what had happened in Eliot's room, Parker's reaction and Hardison's.

She huffed in disgust, "So you run at the first opportunity? Way to go, Nathan! You called me and said you wanted to make it up to him and the first hurdle, you bail on him, leaving him with Parker and Hardison. You said you cared about how he was coping, yet you abandon him with them."

"But he seemed pleased to see them! Parker was all over him!"

"Do you even think about anyone other than yourself? Ever?" She turned her back on him and took a few deep breaths. When she turned back, she was in control again, but her eyes were cold, "He tries so hard to be everything for everyone and you've never realized. You out of all of us. You know before this all happened, we hadn't known each other long and it was . . . excusable that we all made rash judgements and behaved selfishly. The fact that Parker gets it wrong, she can't tell when she's too exuberant for him or when he's hurting, but she tries, Nate, she tries so bloody hard! But not you. You, always making this big thing about being the honorable man, the normal one and yet you're the one who behaves worst of all."

She paced away, then turned and came back again. "You know before he got hurt, none of us would have sacrificed anything for the others; not really. We all assumed that was the same for everyone else, but we were wrong. Eliot would have kept us all safe. What he did for me, he'd have done for any one of us, because we were a team. It didn't matter whether he liked us or not personally, he felt responsible for us. I was a bitch to him and yet he didn't have even a second thought about saving me. He knew that only one of us was going to walk away from those falling boxes and it was going to be me. I wouldn't have survived that, I couldn't have fought back like he has and you're the only person who doesn't get that. Eliot, the thief, the hitter, the brawn and muscle is actually a better man than the rest of us."

"He always has been," Nathan said quietly.

"Yeah, he has . . . but you know what, we're learning; we're trying to be better too. We're trying to follow his example and actually care about someone else. We're through, Nathan. You and the team, it's over. Don't bother coming back because you say you care, you say you want to fix things, but you don't want to put the effort in. I need to go, because Eliot needs someone else there, someone to take the pressure off when Parker and Hardison ask him too many questions and he can't answer them because he can't get the words out. He needs someone to help him save face, even though they won't mind and won't judge. If you can't do it, then I will."

She stepped round Nathan and hurried up the path without looking back and Nathan began to realize that perhaps she was right, perhaps he really couldn't be the man Eliot needed.


	7. A New Road, A New Life   Epilogue

**Finding A New Road **

**Part Three – A New Road, A New Life**

**Epilogue**

Sophie stepped out of the cab, checked her watch. She was early, not by too much, but she knew where to go, where Eliot would be. She headed through the grounds to the open garden, slowing her steps as she saw the group before her on the grass. It was a good sight; one that she hadn't thought they would achieve. Eliot was standing in front of a group of eight people, leading them smoothly through some simple moves. He had a patience now that had grown out of fighting his own frustrations for so long. It had taken so much work for him to regain his balance to a sufficient enough degree to be able to resume his own katas, but the discipline had been a good focus for him.

Sophie looked round at the surroundings, impressed as always with the facility that Eliot had chosen. She'd fought him, tooth and nail at first, determined that he would stay with her and be looked after 'properly' but in truth what he had now was far better than she could ever have offered.

There were days when she wondered if he would ever leave, make a home of his own, but the reality was that for all of his improvements, each tiny element of recovery, he was still vulnerable and here he had a safe haven and a family of sorts. The people here knew him as a friend, a member of the community. He had freedom to be himself and live his life at his own pace and when things were more difficult, there were people to help and medical staff on hand for the occasions he needed them.

For the most part his health was now under control. The times when things would go wrong were more predictable. A cold could be so much more as it had been when he'd stayed at Sophie's, but he had learned to recognize the symptoms and the staff of the facility were also accustomed to watching out over all their patients for similar symptoms. If Eliot's speech so much as slipped, they'd pay closer attention to him, check in on him more often. Anything to make sure that he was doing okay.

Sophie sat down on a bench to enjoy the tranquility for a time. She looked up as a figure blocked the sunlight, tensing when she recognized one of the administrators, Mr. Sawyer. "Do you mind if I join you for a moment, Ms. Deveraux?"

She nodded, gesturing briefly to the seat alongside, barely waiting until the man was seated before she asked, "Is there a problem? Is something the matter with Eliot?"

"No, not at all, Eliot's doing real well. He's a man with remarkable determination, Ms Deveraux, as I'm sure you know."

"Yes, yes, he is. Looking at him now . . . there was a time when I'd never have believed I'd see this," she waved in direction of Eliot and the group he was working with, watching as Eliot moved from one person to the next making slight adjustments to their posture or offering a few words of praise.

"I need to talk to you about what may be a delicate matter, ask your advice before I speak to Eliot."

"If it's money, you don't need to bother him with it. I can make up any deficit in the required amount."

"No," Mr. Sawyer said, hurriedly. "No, not money or not a shortfall anyway. I have been contacted by a gentleman who says he is close to Eliot, _was_ close to Eliot. He is not on the list of guests that Eliot gave us when he first came here. Eliot has never mentioned him. He was rather insistent that we made arrangements for him to be able to visit and has said he has to discuss a financial matter with Eliot."

"A financial matter? And did this man give a name?" Sophie asked warily.

"He left a card as well. Nathan Ford, an insurance agent. When Eliot came to us, papers were signed giving you authority in official matters where it was felt he either couldn't make a clear decision on his own or where he would be better to have advice. While it's possible that Eliot at the moment might feel that he could manage this independently and we would support him in that, it's also something that, per his instructions, you should be aware of."

"Did Nathan give any indication what it was in relation to?" Sophie asked bitterly.

"No . . . we assumed the insurance . . ."

"Yes, I'm absolutely sure that was what he intended." She sighed and closed her eyes as she thought for a while. "He isn't Eliot's insurance agent. He's . . . yeah, I don't know what to say. I want to say that we shouldn't let him come within miles of this place, but it needs to be Eliot's decision. I'll talk to Eliot about it over dinner."

"You'll let me know?"

"One of us will, yes. If he calls in the meantime –"

"We can delay, that's not a problem. Will you want to be present if Eliot agrees to a meeting?"

"I'd like to be here, but not necessarily with them, I suppose. If it comes to that, I mean Eliot might say no." There was a hopeful note to her voice.

"Ms. Deveraux, the agreement was that if you felt Eliot was at risk . . ."

"No, this isn't what Eliot meant by that. He's not ill, he's not unable to make a decision about this. I have to respect that. It would be different if he was having a bad spell, but he's not. He's doing well." Her eyes settled back on Eliot and the group he was with. "He's doing really well."

"He is. He's achieved an amazing degree of recovery. For the most part he doesn't need to be here. It's those rare times . . ."

"And that is one of the reasons he stays. He likes it here, he's found a place he feels he belongs, where people aren't judging him badly for the things that are still hard and where he knows he's safe if something starts to go wrong. He likes being able to do this, to help other people, help them begin to improve as much as they can. He has things to offer here, things that he couldn't offer out in the 'real world'. He's good at this, but he couldn't do this for just anybody. He wouldn't get this level of acceptance."

"There are people outside, places that –"

Sophie cut him short, "For all the good people out there, he'd meet a few assholes. He doesn't need to deal with that in his life. Not anymore."

The group below them on the grass was breaking up, the people all saying goodbye and thanking Eliot, some of them hugging him and others shouting their thanks as they walked away. Eliot picked up a bottle of water and took a long swig before turning and seeing Sophie. He raised his hand in greeting and began to make his way towards her.

Mr. Sawyer stood, thanked Sophie for her time and greeted Eliot familiarly as he passed on his way back to the administrative building. "Ssomething wrong?" Eliot asked as he reached Sophie, casting a glance back at the administrator's retreating back.

"No, everything's fine, El. I'll tell you what we talked about over dinner. I believe that's what you promised me, wasn't it?" She smiled affectionately.

"'kay. I-I need to grab a shower, but I've prepared everything. W-well, e-everything except the ssalad. It won't t-take me long."

Sophie rested a hand on his arm, "El, we've got time, I'm not in any rush." He smiled back and nodded, opening the gate and holding it so she could go through first. "Always such a gentleman," she said with a laugh.

He flushed with embarrassment. "It's a good thing, El." He nodded and started to follow her down the path to his house.

"Y-you heard from Hardison or-or Parker?" he asked a few moments later.

"I think they're working their way around the world, taking in the sites and taking some souvenirs to have at home."

He laughed, "I c-can imagine. Is the L-Louvre missing anything yet?"

"Not yet, but it's probably only a matter of time."

* * *

><p>Eliot didn't take long in the shower, but Sophie poured herself a glass of wine and washed a few of the vegetables ready for the salad while she waited. She could smell the cooking lasagna and knew it would taste as every bit as good as it used to. There were differences in the way that Eliot cooked now, strategies that he'd learned to help keep track of time and measurements. He had recipes written down so that he knew how far through his task he was, there were timers set for different items and he needed more time to make his preparations. He'd also finally agreed to make use of a gadget that Hardison had found to help with fine chopping, something he still found difficult. At first, Sophie had wanted him to not even try after he managed to cut himself a few times, but gradually Eliot had accepted that he couldn't try to work at the speeds he used to have and that he had to accept that 'finely chopped' either wasn't as fine as it used to be, or was done with the gadget.<p>

Eliot reappeared a few minutes later in a pair of jeans and a shirt. 'Smart casual' was the first thing that sprung to Sophie's mind. "It's g-good to see you, Soph'," he said as he made his way into the kitchen.

"Your session looked like it was going well," Sophie said. He smiled and nodded, pulling out two knives out of the knife block and offering one to Sophie, who accepted it and reached for a tomato. "Slices or chunks?"

Eliot shrugged, "D-doesn't matter. It's j-just for the salad."

Sophie smiled and began to chop the tomato in front of her. She didn't say anything but she was impressed with how much Eliot's speech had improved. He still had a slight stammer, but for the most part that was all that remained noticeable of his speech difficulties.

"Have you had a good week?" he asked. "Bought anything new?"

She laughed, "Well, as you asked . . ." She gave a twirl, letting her skirt spin out.

"N-nice shoes. Manolo Blahnik . . . Jimmy Choo's . . ."

"You know me so well, sweetheart. Jimmy Choo's this time. You like them?"

"Perfect on you. Not my th-thing," he smirked. "They make my ass look big."

She helped him carry the salad to the table, taking her seat as he held her chair for her then returned to fetch the lasagna. He served her before leaving her to help herself to salad as he poured her wine then sat down himself.

"So you've got quite a group now for your T'ai Chi. It looked like they were enjoying themselves."

"It's g-going well. Everybody's improving, e-even if it's only slowly. I understand though. I th-think they get that I know how it feels and that you just h-have to keep trying. Some things will get easier. Ssome things . . ." He didn't finish the sentence. "You have to b-build something n-new."

"Yes," she agreed, understanding all the things he wasn't saying along with those he was.

They talked for a while, with Eliot asking her questions about what she had been doing before the conversation drifted back to Hardison and Parker and their trip and from there to their own memories of some of the places they had been.

The meal was finished and the table cleared, the two of them moving to sit in more comfort with cups of coffee before Sophie broached the subject of Nathan. "Mr. Sawyer was saying he's received a call from Nathan asking to come and visit you."

"Oh? He didn't say."

"Nathan told him he was an insurance agent. I think he was concerned about the agreement you had them sign," she smiled. "He wasn't sure what insurance it was in relation to and we can safely guess that Nathan wouldn't have given anything away."

"Is he coming?" Eliot asked, one hand rubbing against the denim of his jeans, giving away his anxiety. "What does he want?"

"He only gets to visit if you give permission. As for what he wants, I have no idea what he wants this time."

Eliot nodded and the two of them sat in silence for a while as he seemed to consider what Nathan might want. "If he wants to try again, he's out of luck. I don't want to know any more."

Sophie watched waiting to see if he said anymore.

"Do you have an opinion?" he asked.

"Only that I think you should do what's right for you," she said.

"Soph-," he leaned forward, fell silent and just looked down at his hands for a while. "Fuck!" he pushed himself upwards and moved towards the window, looking out into the grounds beyond, seeing a few people out walking. He felt as Sophie's hand came to rest on his shoulder with a gentle squeeze. He turned slowly and apologized.

She frowned, waving away the apology, adding, "You don't have anything to apologize for. He's the one who was in the wrong and you don't have to see him. Tell Sawyer you're not interested in anything he has to say."

"Su-supposing he needs something – supposing he comes here and sees ," he gestured out the window, "this. What will he think? What will he say?"

"El, firstly you owe him nothing. None of us do anymore. Secondly, if you _allow_ him to visit, what is there for him to think? You've found a home, a good one with real friends. You've found somewhere where you can be independent, but when you need help it's there. You have nothing whatsoever to be ashamed of about living here." Eliot seemed about to contradict what she'd said, so she continued, "Do you not want to live here? Do you want to move on?" He shook his head. "Eliot, you've rebuilt your life."

"A-and some of my friendships," he said, taking her free hand.

She pulled him closer with the hand still on his shoulder and the two of them shared a warm embrace.

"If he comes, if I say he can visit, would you . . .?"

"Certainly."

* * *

><p>Nathan wasn't sure what to expect as he approached the reception center for the complex where Eliot now lived. It had taken him a while to track him down - when he'd finally decided to look again. He was clean . . . sober now for four hundred and fifty two days, sixteen hours and counting. It was still a battle. The urge to head for a bar, to buy a bottle was always lingering just below the surface. He'd had enough therapy, been to enough meetings to know that nobody thought the answers to his problems were in the bottom of any bottle he would choose to try and find it in.<p>

So he plodded on, day by day, sometimes hour by hour, sober and trying to make himself into somebody who deserved to be alive.

The woman in the reception smiled as he entered. "Good afternoon, can I help you?"

"Yeah. I've come to visit Eliot Spencer."

"Eliot . . . okay, and you are?"

"Nathan Ford."

She smiled again, slightly less relaxed before picking up a phone and pressing a few numbers. When she spoke it was to tell Eliot presumably that he was here. The conversation was brief and when she hung up, she gestured to a set of chairs and said, "If you want to take a seat, Eliot will be along for you shortly."

Nathan sat down and began to look round at his surroundings. He noticed that the center seemed to double as a simple grocery store with a few basic essentials on the shelf. A young woman entered the store side of the shop, through the door that led out into the complex. She walked with a limp, but seemed quite determined. The woman behind the counter greeted her warmly and as the woman made a sign of some sort with her hands, Nathan saw as that too was returned. "B-b-b-bread," the young woman eventually managed to say, backing up the word with a set of hand gestures.

"Bread, Maisie, no problem." The woman behind the counter lifted a couple of loaves from the shelf and held them out for the younger one, Maisie, to choose. She tapped a hand against one and that was set down by the cash register. While the woman serving returned the other loaf to the shelf, Maisie turned away and moved to select other things from the open shelves picking up a couple of oranges and then some milk from the chiller cabinet. Maisie's gaze passed over Nathan for a moment, but it didn't rest as she turned back to her own shopping.

Standing back at the counter again, Maisie said, "A-a-all, th-thank."

"You are doing so well with your speech now, Maisie," the woman praised, beaming. "So let's total that up and it comes to $6.45." Nathan watched Maisie laboriously count out six dollars and then shuffle her fingers backward and forward through some loose change as if she had no idea where to even start before handing over the change to the woman behind the counter. The woman sifted through the coins quickly, lifting out a quarter and saying, "This one's the quarter, remember, Maisie? A quarter is twenty-five cents, so with the quarter we put a ten to make it thirty-five and then another ten to make it forty-five." She helped Maisie return the money to her purse before putting the rest into the cash register.

Nathan felt a stir of panic, supposing this was what Eliot was like now; what would he do then? How could they talk? How could he deal with Eliot if this is what he was like? He'd taken that turn for the worse at Sophie's and had been in the hospital last time Nathan had seen him. He'd been playing it down saying it was nothing, but supposing it had been something; supposing he'd suffered some terrible setback that had stolen all the progress he'd made? Nathan shuddered, looking at the young woman who was now leaving the store, signing her thanks and waving goodbye.

Shit! He felt like an asshole. What right did he have to judge? Yet the thought of Eliot being like that terrified him. He rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, forcing himself to stay where he was and not make a run for it.

"Mmaisie, good to see you today." Nathan looked up at the voice, taking in the first sight of Eliot. The young woman had stopped and was signing something to Eliot. She looked embarrassed, head down and cheeks flushed. Nathan wondered what she'd signed when Eliot replied, "Not today. I-I-I have someone visiting ttoday. T-tomorrow." He backed up his words with his own set of signs and Nathan wondered when Eliot had learned to sign, not remembering any indication of it before.

As Maisie left, Eliot entered the store and headed towards Nathan. Nathan stood up, relieved that he looked so well, so tanned and relaxed. He stepped forward as if to embrace Eliot who stopped dead and didn't come closer. They stood awkwardly for a moment or two before the woman behind the counter broke the silence, "Everything okay, Eliot?"

Nathan saw him turn quickly and nod, his attention never really leaving Nathan, despite the turn of his head. When he spoke it lacked any real warmth, "E-everything's fine. Nnathan was a work associate before . . ."

Nathan dropped his arms. He'd wanted more of a recognition than that, but it seemed unlikely he was going to get it. When Eliot offered a hand to shake, Nathan took it in a firm grip, reluctant to let go until Eliot pulled his hand away. "This way," Eliot said, beginning to walk towards the door that lead into the complex. Nathan followed.

Nathan was surprised as he walked through and saw the spread of buildings beyond surrounding an elegant garden with both open green spaces and beds of flowers. There was plenty of seating as well and people out enjoying the sunshine, some of them sitting, others walking. Nathan took it all in, looking for details, clues that might tell him more about the man Eliot was now.

"It's been a llong time," Eliot broke the silence. "Why now?"

"I . . . I'm sober now."

Eliot snorted, "Y-you said that before."

"Yeah and I fell off the wagon. It's one of the reasons I never came back . . . I knew you couldn't trust me to stay that way. I couldn't trust myself. The first hurdle and I still headed for the bottle."

"And now?" Eliot seemed curious.

"Now is different. I've been sober for four hundred and fifty two days. I could tell you the number of hours and minutes as well, but that probably isn't that reassuring. I get it . . . now anyway. I went for help, realized I really can't do this on my own. Even with help, it's a struggle some days." Nathan looked a little embarrassed by that.

"Today?"

Nathan nodded. He sighed, "I have a sponsor. I do the meetings. I'm doing it by the book this time."

"Good for you," Eliot's voice was quiet and Nathan wasn't sure what to read into the words. They walked in silence for a while, a few people they passed greeted Eliot warmly and he responded, clearly at home and relaxed with them in a way that he wasn't with Nathan. A few of them looked curiously at Nathan but no one spoke to him or even acknowledged him beyond a simple greeting .

Nathan looked round seeing the larger central buildings with a variety of people coming and going, a few in suits or uniforms and smaller cottage-like buildings in the distance. There were walking paths leading off in a variety of directions and a few small roads down which the occasional car passed. It was nothing like he'd expected and he was almost lost for words.

He wasn't sure where Eliot was leading him, but the paths were getting quieter and for a moment he presumed that Eliot was taking him to his home, but then they turned a corner and Eliot waved at a seat. Nathan paused, waiting for Eliot to sit, but when he didn't, he sat down himself. That was clearly what Eliot was waiting for, because once Nathan was still, he took his own seat at the opposite end of the bench. He turned his body to face Nathan, positioning his legs in such a way that Nathan couldn't move closer if he were to try.

"Wh-why are you here, Nnate?"

The stammer was still there, but Eliot didn't seem to have the same degree of problem with getting the right words out. Nathan drew a deep breath. "I don't know completely. I mean I wanted to see you, to see how you were doing. I wanted to say I was sorry, but hell there are so many things I need to say sorry to you for, I don't even know where to begin." Nathan's words didn't get any real reaction from Eliot, who continued to just sit and watch silently. "I fucked up so many times, Eliot and I know I came back and I said I was going to be there for you, but . . . I just let you down again. I couldn't do it, I couldn't support you when I couldn't even deal with . . ."

Eliot snorted in disgust, his face a sneer. "I don't need your _support_."

"No, no you don't. I don't think you ever have really . . . You're a stronger man than I've ever been. I think you're the only one of the team who could have come through this." Nathan looked down at his hands, round the surroundings before he looked back at Eliot. The sneer had gone, but there was no real interest there either. "I treated you badly."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." Nathan realized it would never be enough and he'd left it too late, there was nothing left to rebuild. "I'm sorry."

"Did you w-want anything else?" Eliot asked.

"You're still in touch with Sophie?"

Eliot nodded curtly.

"If there's ever anything you need, have her contact me. . . I sold the offices and put the money in an account for you, but she said you had it all taken care of. If that should ever change . . ." Nathan stood up. "It's nice here. You're happy here? They look after you?"

Eliot stood up, his face showing his anger. "You're a b-bastard, Nathan . . . " Nathan winced at the accusation. "Is your conscience c-clear now? You ssaid sorry, w-was that enough?" Eliot paced away then turned back and came right up to Nathan, poking him in the chest. "Ssorry isn't enough! Y-you treated me like sh-shit b-before th-the a-accident. Y-you v-vanished afterwards. Y-you w-waltzed b-back in, ssaying ssorry and wanting a-another chance. Y-you didn't even s-stay twenty-f-four hours. You rran." He panted, short of breath, took a step back and tried to get his breathing under control. "A-and you th-think y-you can ssay ssorry and th-that's it!"

"I don't know what else I can give you, Eliot. I can't make up for my mistakes. The only thing I can give you is the apology and the money."

"G-get out. G-get the f-fuck out! I don't w-want your ap-pology and I d-don't want your money!"

"Eliot –" Nathan tried to stop him.

"Th-this is my home a-and you're n-not welcome in it." Eliot turned and walked away without looking back.

Nathan stood watching him go, realizing that this was final. He didn't belong here, Eliot had made that clear. He'd left it too late to try and rebuild any friendship with Eliot and he would have to assume by extension Sophie. He'd hoped to retrieve something but there was one thing he'd learned and that was that he'd made the choice to drink and by extension made the choice to ruin friendships and relationships. Eliot had the right not to accept the apology, whether he liked it or not.

Eliot turned a corner further along the path and moved out sight. He hadn't looked back once and that was all Nathan had needed to know. Sadly he turned back the way he'd come, but knowing he had to accept Eliot's decision didn't make it any easier to do so.

Just as he approached the reception area, he saw two familiar figures exit the building, laughing and smiling and holding hands. He took a step back, making his presence less obvious to the pair who clearly knew where they were going. Parker and Hardison headed straight down the main path, crossing the lawn before turning off down a smaller path towards the houses beyond without noticing him.

He hadn't expected to see them, but then maybe that was just another foolishness on his part. They'd been at the hospital when he'd visited Eliot there; they'd been a big part of why he'd left. They had been real friends to Eliot, something he couldn't ever claim to have been.

There'd been no point in the visit, he'd achieved nothing but a feeling of failure. He wouldn't come back.

* * *

><p>Eliot stormed down the path angrily. He didn't know what he'd hoped for, what he thought Nathan could do or say after all this time to make things better, but the word sorry, the offer of money and no attempt at explaining his actions wasn't enough. It wasn't like Eliot didn't know why Nathan had done half of the things he'd done, but he'd needed to hear it from Nathan not just from his own assumptions or Sophie's assurances.<p>

He couldn't work out whether he was more angry with Nathan or with himself. To make matters worse, he'd not only had Sophie come out today but Parker and Hardison were on their way. He'd told them he'd make lunch as if he needed anyone else to see his humiliation now. Where he'd got the idea it could be a reunion, that Nathan could become part of their group again, their team, he couldn't really say.

He'd allowed himself to get so worked up that he'd not been able to control the stammer, hitching and stuttering his way through everything he'd wanted to say, everything getting worse the more he'd allowed himself to lose control. He hated himself right then almost as much as he hated Nathan, blamed himself probably more than Nathan. He leaned against a tree trying to get the rage and hurt under control. He'd brought this on himself.

He heard gravel crunch on the path behind him, the steps slow and tentative, as if someone wasn't sure whether to disturb him or not.

"Eliot?" Sophie's soft voice called. He took a few deep slow breaths, then lifted his head and turned. "Hey," she said, moving closer. "So it didn't work out, there's still the four of us . . . We don't have to . . ."

"I – I – I t-told." He stopped, took another deep breath and tried again, "Ii told him tto go."

"That's okay, Eliot." She reached out a hand to take hold of his where it was clenched at his side. "It's okay. You tried, you agreed to give him the chance. Lots of people wouldn't have done."

"H-he said sssorry." He knew he wasn't hiding the sense of defeat from his voice.

"It's just a word, Eliot. You'd have known if he really meant it." Her voice was soothing, he could feel some of his anger slipping away. His shoulders dropped and he began to relax, opening his hand and letting their fingers entwine. "Eliot, maybe it's time to let go of the past and to be grateful for all that we have now. Good friends, health, home, a future."

He nodded, "I-I'm not the same person anymore." He could feel the tension easing, the ability to say the words he wanted getting easier. He never seemed able to completely rid himself of the stammer, but it wasn't so noticeable when he was relaxed. "I-it wasn't right before, I-I was leaving so . . ."

"So . . ." Sophie smiled at him. "If this had never happened, you'd have left and you'd be on your own. Instead you have us. Speaking of which, Parker and Hardison are here already, so if you feel up to it, we should probably head back before Hardison takes it into his head to 'help' with the cooking!"

Eliot laughed, letting the last of his anger go and accepting all that he now had. It may not have been the health that he had before, but it was better than he'd hoped, than the doctors had said would be possible after the accident. Friends and a family of sorts, more than he'd believed he could have. Safety and security and a home where he was happy to be.

Eliot let Sophie's hand slip from his and instead threw his arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer for a hug. "Thank you," he said, "and maybe we should hurry back, before I don't have a home to go back to!"

He let her go again, his smile wide and as they started down the path, Eliot knew his future was just starting.


End file.
